


doesn't matter where i land as long as i do

by alatarmaia4



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Tumblr Fic, characters not necessarily in order of appearance, edited a teensy bit, just a little, some OCs thrown in for flavor, some stuff was bothering me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 84,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatarmaia4/pseuds/alatarmaia4
Summary: "i have homework i have to present in several hours that is driving me insane and i'm desperately trying to ignore it. anyway, uh. if gabriel /were/ to actually end up in a star wars universe, how, when and how d'you reckon that would go?"
   Gabriel in the Star Wars movie 'verse.





	1. stream of consciousness

**Author's Note:**

> This was a reply to an anon ask on tumblr, so that's why it's a little rambling and weird in places; i wrote it all in one go. 
> 
> Think of this as a prologue. I'll probably be writing more for each individual scenario, maybe one trilogy gets a chapter? I'd have to actually watch the prequels at some point, so we'll see how that goes.

so we know star wars is a “long long time ago” which is part of why star wars is so interesting (normally sci-fi is futuristic and fancy and clean) but let’s disregard that and say maybe gabriel just lived long enough, maybe he saw a space age with humanity scattered among the stars and earth renamed or maybe just abandoned.

maybe he jumped ship and landed in an alternate universe. who’s gonna find him there, when everyone thinks he’s dead and he’s like 90% sure that the winchesters are gonna take care of michael and lucifer? raphael will have their hands full, and probably only another archangel would be able to find him.

(don’t think i missed his passing comment to Kali in the ep where he died, about checking out pandora - that’s the planet from Avatar, also fictional, so who’s to say he hasn’t done this kind of thing before?)

but also there’s the question of WHEN applied to the SW ‘verse - prequels? original trilogy? episode 7? 

if he ended up in the prequels - let’s say Tatooine, because I’ve read enough fic that I have an interesting idea of how the slaves there live - well, he wouldn’t stand for that shit, that’s for sure. He’d probably become a power to rival the Hutts, but no one actually knows who he is, so generally everyone is fucking terrified of him-

except the slaves.

see, Gabriel doesn’t stand for that shit, and he’s had practice at freedom trails. he was in america (probably) during the civil war, you can’t tell me he hasn’t helped slaves escape before this. and they know it. they know he's safety. the Hutts know it, too, but they can't stop him.

(and if he lived long enough to see the space age, who knows what happened to old human mythology? maybe all the old gods, all his old friends, are forgotten and long-vanished, but gabriel’s more than a god, he’s still around. maybe he casts off loki and becomes something new that still isn’t Gabriel, or maybe he keeps Loki, maybe he becomes a Storyteller instead of a Messenger and keeps all those old tales alive, and while he’s at it, says hi to all the new gods as well. new planets, new moons, new constellations = new mythologies; but all that’s a whole ‘nother conversation)

so maybe shmi finds her way to him, maybe she’s realized she’s pregnant and she’s scared; but would she risk dying with a baby on the way? maybe someone else smuggled her out, maybe Gabriel ran into her in Mos Espa and saw her and realized what was going on and helped her escape himself (I mean let’s be honest, anakin is a jesus metaphor and mary’s an old friend of Gabriel’s, he doesn’t want to see a woman in a situation like this).

so anakin is born with Gabriel; if he was never a slave then Qui-Gon never finds him, so what then? (i’ll be completely honest, i’m not sure i’ve ever seen the prequels, and if i did it was long enough ago that i remember basically nothing, so i’m drawing all my information from canon divergent fic) Gabriel probably knows the Force pretty well. he sees what’s going on with anakin. and he’s probably seen the jedi, too, the council and the republic - well, he’s been on an outer rim planet that the republic can’t be assed to care about, so fuck the jedi, he’s taking care of this kid himself.

(has Gabriel ever had children? depends on how accurate you think norse mythology is in the SPN universe, but he loves humans and he loves kids - he’d be good at it).

i don’t know why qui-gon, padmé, and obi wan were in mos espa in the first place, but maybe there’s another chance meeting, and gabriel winks at the queen in disguise and gets them what they need because he sees what’s going on here, and he thinks it’s hilarious that this ~~jedi master~~ doesn’t

and basically everything would end nicely and anakin might never become the chosen one, or he might be too fed up with injustice to leave well enough alone and maybe he runs into padmé, _oh I’m sorry senator, didn’t see you there-_

they probably fall in love at some point, if they do meet, and the public of Naboo is half scandalized at their senator’s choice of partner, and the other half thinks it’s cute and probably philanthropy, but neither of them care (and gabriel winks at her again when anakin introduces her to the family and padmé gapes and anakin’s like wait, you two know each other?)

BUT MAYBE NOT. maybe gabriel arrives too late, maybe anakin is already darth vader, maybe the republic has already fallen. where does gabriel show up? if he’s jumping universes, i feel like it would be easy to aim for something familiar. humans, lots of them, all in one place.

gabriel lands on coruscant, staggers, looks around, thinks _fuck this place_ , and steals away on a ship going somewhere he doesn’t know the name of

he spends a few years adjusting, probably, he doesn’t like what he sees but what can he do, he’s in hiding-! but. there’s a rebellion. he rescues someone from a stormtrooper entirely on accident, he doesn’t know anything except that he doesn’t like the empire and the empire is threatening this dude (indirectly, but still). he’s got power, of course, more than he knows what to do with at the moment, and he flicks the trooper’s gun away with a snap and knocks them out and pulls the guy into his house-

and bail organa stares at him, because he’s still alive and alderaan is nice, okay, gabriel likes it, it reminds him of europe and he spent ages there back home.

but bail organa is staring at him, and he sees this dude who is so, so much more than he looks, and says, _i don’t suppose i can interest you in becoming a rebel?_

(gabriel is in by the time bail finishes saying ‘rebel’. bail spends fifteen more minutes trying to convince him before gabriel finally breaks from his fake emotionless demeanor and starts laughing, and asks him what this rebellion is)

he spends a lot of time at the organa’s, after that, and the baby organa (as he refers to leia, which always makes her upset when she gets older) grows up with him as a semi-permanent fixture and family friend. the organas have two kids, actually, the other is actually a cousin on breha's side who was adopted into the family as well.

she and leia both know they're adopted, they get along well, they mess around in big, official rooms while gabriel talks with bail and then gets up midsentence to play with them. breha’s there, too, just as pivotal as her husband, and she likes gabriel for the second part more than for what he can offer the rebellion.

and then leia’s older, she’s a part of the rebellion and she’s got plans for something called a ‘death star’, and she doesn’t come home.

gabriel finds her in five minutes; five minutes after they get the notice, anyway. leia looks up sharply, and when she sees who it is her face crumples with relief.

gabriel takes her home, and then he goes back to the death star. leia was taking care of the plans she’d sent away, she was a smart girl. but this battle station was more gabriel’s league.

he doesn’t find the vent that holds the key to destroying the place. here is what he finds:

  * some really, truly interesting gossip from eavesdropping on petty officers
  * the squeaky box robots that clean the floor are incredibly easy to sabotage
  * darth vader’s personal quarters
  * darth vader’s personal line to the emperor
  * moff tarkin’s personal quarters and personal line to the guy who worked directly under the emperor (gabriel discards the second and rubs his hands gleefully at unhindered access to the guy’s bedroom)



being gabriel, he immediately makes himself as irritable as possible, without once being seen

(and he absolutely prank-calls the emperor a few times, because it’s hilarious. the first time went a little awry though, because geez, _that face_ )

darth vader gets sent back to wherever the emperor is, because the emperor wants answers about how “vader” has been misusing his personal holocom line, and tarkin doesn’t have the energy to deal with a petty vader and all this nonsense and things suddenly going wrong-

when the death star tries to fire on alderaan, there are a couple very confusing minutes, and then it explodes, rather abruptly.

vader is not on it.

the rebellion is not disappointed in the lack of a challenge. they’re at war, it’s such a relief to not have to worry about it they throw a party. gabriel arrives at their base, having gotten directions from leia. she’s waiting for him, out on the tarmac by a round ship that’s definitely seen better days, and she’s accompanied by several other people - a boy, and a scowling man who keeps muttering about having better things to do, and an old man in a robe.

gabriel lands in his stolen ship and pops out. "what’d i miss?"

leia beams and turns to the boy and the old man. “this is my father’s friend that i told you about,” she says, and then with the air of someone unveiling a surprise present, “he’s a jedi”

the boy’s mouth drops open. the old man stares. gabriel abruptly remembers what his cover story had been.

this is going to take some explaining.

he could say he doesn’t know anything about the jedi because he’s too young, but then who trained him? besides, he’d appeared like magic in leia’s cell - she’s not going to let that go. gabriel resigns himself to a long conversation.

maybe he ends up as a weird kind of rankless authority on the rebel base. maybe they call him a general just to pin him down, but he’d refuse - gabriel’s had enough of fighting. but as long as he’s with them, their base is impossible to find, and they somehow have just as many supplies as they need, and their suppliers magically start charging less.

no one says it, but everyone knows it’s gabriel, even if they don’t quite understand _how_.

luke trains with obi-wan, he learns - eventually he still gets shipped off to dagobah. maybe he still goes to cloud city, convinced his friends are in trouble, and meets vader there - or maybe he goes there with gabriel in tow, because he’d seen gabriel in the vision and thought wait, that doesn’t make sense, and dropped by the base just to make sure. but hey, if someone wanted luke on bespin, who were they to refuse?

gabriel knows who anakin is on sight, not because he was ever anakin’s father-figure or rescued his mother from slavery, but because gabriel looks at the mask and then looks at the force, and it’s just an angrier, more righteous, more pained version of luke.

luke makes bad decisions, they get separated, and it culminates the way it was always going to. luke looses his lightsaber, looses his hand, he falls - and gabriel catches him, catches the ‘saber (but he does not catch the hand, because ew)

maybe it goes on pretty much the same from there. the empire falls, vader is last-minute redeemed and dies. it’s just much, much easier, because at this point leia is a master of getting gabriel to do what she wants, and what she wants is to win.

and if gabriel is there - he sees them grow, he sees leia and han get married (leia is heavily pregnant at the time and luke is smiling more than everyone else combined), he sees luke start his new jedi school

he sees snoke, lurking, wherever the hell he is.

he’s there when ben is born.

is gabriel enough to help ben? gabriel knows a thing or two about darkness, he saw lucifer fall to it up close and personally. he saw vader, he saw the emperor (briefly). ben is only a child.

gabriel’s a good babysitter. gabriel sees the hurt on leia’s face when ben expresses a preference for him, blithely, only three years old-

he takes a sabbatical. he’s too involved. he’s never been this close to humans, not in a thousand years and more. he drifts among stars, he checks out a couple new planets he hasn’t visited yet - oh, there’s luke’s school, maybe i should go by and check it out, say hi-

-oh.

oh, no.

—and then, maybe not. maybe he stays. han corners him, says _i know a thing or two about leaving, so don’t do it, ben loves you, you can’t leave._

gabriel stays.

is it enough?

maybe he only comes in when the stage is being reset for the third time, in the darkness of the wings when the metaphorical stage crew is still shuffling around. he lands awkwardly in jakku’s sands, he’s a shooting star, he almost died and he lies there for days, trying to recover and get the sand out of the stab wound, oh god, lucifer-

a tiny, disappointed voice pipes up, _you’re not a wreck._

gabriel cranes his neck and sees a tiny figure in dirty clothing and makeshift goggles, clutching a staff that’s twice as tall as her and only a little bit thicker than her arms and legs

 _that’s debatable_ , he says, and hauls himself up out of the wreck. rey’s skinny enough that two of her just about equals one gabriel. _where am i, anyway, kid?_

niima outpost isn’t his style. gabriel can’t get the girl out of his head - especially not after he sees her with unkar plutt.

he follows her back, and when rey sees him and jumps up to defend her home, he says _hey, i brought food._

the portions are as good as a shield. he hadn’t stolen plutt’s stuff - other people needed to eat too - just made more of it and stolen the excess. rey’s eyes go wide.

gabriel doesn’t eat any of it. he keeps bringing extra portions, and rey keeps eating them, and after a while stops eyeing gabriel suspiciously while she eats.

it takes her two jakku months (just about forty earth days) for her to notice that gabriel doesn’t eat _at all_.

in the eyes of a jakku scavenger, this makes him the world’s best roommate.

so rey grows up, and gabriel’s with her, and it’s not really a fatherly arrangement because rey has parents already thankyouverymuch, they’re just - not here. they’ll come back eventually. they have to. she’s still there so they have to come back for her.

bb-8, when they are introduced, beeps at gabriel. gabriel beeps back. he’s good at imitations, can make any noise he wants despite the limitations of his vessel’s vocal chords.  bb-8 screeches in surprise and decides gabriel is the most interesting human in the world.

and then - finn, poe’s jacket, the millenium falcon is in the sky and rey is insisting that they go back, _you don’t understand, i have to, my friend is still there, he won’t know what happened to me!_

except then han solo arrives, and then they’re attacked, and before rey knows it she’s running towards the rebellion and away from a lightsaber and frightening visions, and there’s a figure in black with a red lightsaber-

if this was the gabriel who ran, ran from robbing leia organa of her child’s affection - he finds them at maz kanata’s, maz is an old friend of his (the closest one he’s got to his age) but the place is destroyed, rey was there and now she isn’t, and leia organa is staring at him across a pile of rubble.

oh, hell.

the gabriel who crashed knows nothing of leia organa besides what rey has exictedly related of the galaxy’s legends - skywalkers and jedi and empires falling under the weight of the Good™. he doesn’t find them for ages, he’s been looking for rey on jakku this whole time because why would she leave? but rey calls niima outpost when all is said and done, and hangs up when plutt answers, and rigs the holocom system to beep constantly.

did you know, scavengers use a system of taps to communicate, the rare times they work in groups? it’s good for sounding out metal, and in those big hollowed-out star destroyer ships, sounds echo a long way. gabriel passes niima outpost, hears them-

that’s rey’s tune. one two-three-four, one two-three one two-three.

he calls back. he steals the holocom right out from under plutt’s distracted fingers and calls back, and he and rey both heave sighs of relief when they see each other.

_where are you?_

_you wouldn’t believe - come meet me, you’ll need a ship - i have something to do, only i can do it-_

_i’d believe a lot_ , gabriel laughs, he’s so goddamned relieved, she’s alive and rey’s really, properly living now. he knew she had it in her.

the first thing rey does is drag him to medbay, to finn’s side.

 _fix him,_ she says. _you did it for me, when i was little, you can fix him._

and then - well, rey has to leave, she’s got to find a living legend because she’s got his lightsaber and his droid, but gabriel’s not exactly going to let her out of his sight again.

the gabriel who crashed lets rey go up alone; and, well, we know what happens from there.

(the gabriel who left, who saw the remains of luke’s school and got the before-and-after of kylo ren and ben solo, stomps up there and says _you better explain yourself, you jerk, your friend’s dead and if you don’t get your ass in gear and help save the galaxy again i am going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you down to that ship myself, don’t you dare be like i was-_ )

(luke can’t exactly say no to that)


	2. Prequels pt.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Originally_ this was going to be one big chapter, but I realized that would make the chapter WAY too long and hey, this way you get a quicker update!
> 
> I draw heavily on [fialeril's tatooine slave culture headcanons](http://fialleril.tumblr.com/tagged/tatooine-slave-culture/chrono) for this chapter; I absolutely love their cultural worldbuilding and mythology, but I do my best to explain it in-story, so it's not necessary to read through all their stuff (though I absolutely think you should). 
> 
> I also have a few songs for this chapter, if you'd like a soundtrack; they can be found on Spotify or YouTube, if you don't have the former!
> 
> _The Hologram/Binary Sunset - John Williams_  
>  The Railroad - Goodnight, Texas  
> One Thing - Runrig  
> [This Prince of Egypt orchestra medley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzXU4OoZNGo)

Gabriel lands on Tatooine.

    He doesn’t mean to.

    Oh, come on. Desert planet on the edge of nowhere, who would _choose_ to go there? The people who live there don’t want to be there. The people aren’t exactly Gabriel’s concern, though, in the middle of the desert. Mostly he’s just trying to heal - that, and prevent sand from getting in various cracks, geez, where the fuck does this desert end?

    It doesn’t, really, as it turns out.

    There aren’t any rivers that he can find, which bewilders Gabriel, because the people have to be getting their water from somewhere. He didn’t think there were people, at first, because where the fuck are you going to find people in an enormous desert? There’s sand, and a few scraggly plants, and some things that vaguely resemble cacti. There’s nothing like life.

    Until-

    Sandstorms are the worst. Gabriel’s been in Egypt and Canaan and Sumer, he’s seen sandstorms. But he’s using most of his power to heal, now, so he ducks out of the whirl of the wind into a cave and there’s already someone there.

    The woman gapes at him. Her arms are half-raised, a frail defense - she’s so skinny she couldn’t have pushed him over if Gabriel was a regular human taken by surprise. He wouldn’t have even stumbled.

    She’s also bleeding, a dirty rag wrapped clumsily around her leg and stained red like the sand and rock under it. She looks sick, and miserable.

    She flinches, when Gabriel drops to his knees at her side, but she doesn’t have the strength to move. She gasps, when Gabriel runs a light hand over her calf and the wound vanishes, skin heals, muscle knits back together. There’s no dirt in that wound anymore, no chance of infection, no sign it was ever there.

    The woman speaks, in a language he doesn’t know - there’s an experience - but the words start making sense the longer she speaks, so Gabriel doesn’t interrupt, lets her scoot away when she realizes she has the strength to.

    “Who are you?” The woman asks hoarsely.

    “My name is-” Gabriel can’t find the word in her language that would best represent his name. He looks to her thoughts, all those words rattling around. “I am named for _Ekkreth._ Trickster.” That’s good enough.

    The woman stares. “Ekkreth?”

    “It’s close enough to my real name,” Gabriel says honestly. He doesn’t have enough words to lie in this language. Yet. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I am...lost.”

    “Did you crash?” The woman asks. Gabriel sees pictures in her thoughts, space-age ships dusty and broken and languishing in ports, taking off with a roar of engines.

    Well then.

    “Yes,” Gabriel says. It’s true, even if he means something other than what she thinks he means. “I don’t have anyone to go to.”

    “How do you speak this language?” The woman is staring at him guardedly, and Gabriel gets flashes of meaning from her - oh, this isn’t a well-known dialect he’s picked up on.

    “My mother taught me,” Gabriel fibs, and the woman’s face softens. Family seems to be a good excuse. Gabriel wishes, briefly, he had any actual family to ask for help.

    Wishing’s not going to do him any good now.

    “What’s your name?” He asks. The storm’s not stopping anytime soon; they may as well get to know each other.

    “Tanai,” she says. “How did you do that?”

    “Do what?”

    She taps her leg.

    “Ah,” Gabriel says. “Well - I inherited more than the language from my mother.”

    “You’re very strange,” Tanai says. “You can’t be human.”

    “No.” Gabriel leaves it at that. He glances back outside. The sandstorm’s still going, sand piling up near the entrance. Something big roars, in the distance. The wind, or maybe the canyon walls, make the noise echo oddly.

    Tanai shivers. “Krayt dragon,” she says.

    “What?” Gabriel assumes it’s some kind of wild animal that magically manages to survive in the desert.

    Tanai eyes him. “Your mother never told you?”

    “To be honest, I don’t know where I am,” Gabriel says. He’s picking up words as he speaks, archangelic Messenger talent making itself useful after centuries of him refusing to use it. It’s not like there’s anyone here that can catch him at it.

    “Tatooine,” Tanai says. “In the Outer Rim. Where were you going when you crashed?”

    “I don’t know,” Gabriel says, and smiles. He has learned to say a lot with a smile, over the years.

    Tanai does not ask him more. She stares out at the wind and the sand. When the krayt dragon roars again, in the distance, Gabriel catches a flicker of a smile.

    “The krayt dragon,” he says. “You like them?”

    “They’re dangerous,” she says, and her hand rubs against her calf absentmindedly. “Nobody will risk getting on the wrong side of a krayt dragon, in the middle of a desert.”

    “Except you,” Gabriel says.

    “Except those who have nothing else to lose,” she corrects him. “A master has everything to lose if he walks into the desert.”

    Gabriel does not need to ask what kind of master she’s talking about. He can see her thoughts, faint impressions of associations; and he’s seen this kind of thing before.

    He’d been looking for a place to rest, but apparently the universe - whichever one he’s in now - doesn’t seem to think he deserves it.

    Tanai laughs, as if she’s thought of something funny. “They say the krayt dragon is Ekkreth’s eldest daughter,” she says. “Maybe she won’t eat you, if you go out.”

    “I’ll pass,” Gabriel says, with a nicer smile than his previous one. “I don’t know much of Ekkreth, just the name.”

    “Because it is your name?”

    “It’s - close? It’s a close translation.”

    “What is your real name, then?”

    It’s a far heavier question than Tanai realizes she’s asking.

    “Loki,” Gabriel says.

    Tanai sounds it out, turning his American accented vowels into something longer and rounder. It sounds a bit like people used to say it, when he was a proper god in the Old World - but that world doesn’t exist here, and he doubts he’s even on Earth any more. Not any Earth he’d recognize, at least.

    They sit in silence for a little while longer. Tanai mutters his name under her breath again, and her voice catches on one syllable, turning into a dry cough. When she can’t stop, Gabriel produces a bottle of water - okay, so he’s breaking several laws of physics, so what? He does it on a regular basis back home - and closes the space between them in a second.

    “Hey, hey, breathe. Drink,” Gabriel says, and Tanai drinks first and then thinks second, once she stops coughing.

    She looks reluctant to let go of the bottle. Gabriel sits back.

    “Keep it,” he says.

    “You’ve never been on a desert planet before, have you?” Tanai asks. She does not refuse the offer.

    “Never had to worry about getting enough of anything,” Gabriel says. It doesn’t count as telling the truth if he knows that he’s giving her the wrong idea, does it? He’d hate to get in the habit.

    Tanai doesn’t reply. She seems fascinated by the plastic bottle. She keeps pressing down on the sides, making it crinkle loudly. Gabriel wonders if they have plastic, on this planet. He hopes not. It always ends up ruining the environment, unless humans here had figured out a way around that. Biodegradable stuff can’t be that hard to engineer, if they’ve got space flight figured out.

    “What you did wasn’t possible,” she says eventually.

    “Sorry?” Gabriel looks up. He’d drifted into thoughts of what this world could be like, with space flight and who-knew-how-many planets accessible if one had money (probably) or a talent for sneakiness and not being noticed when stowing away on a ship.

    “You healed me,” she says, and lifts the water bottle. “And - this. You did not have it before.”

    “No,” Gabriel says.

    “Are you Ekkreth’s child?”

    Gabriel laughs. “No,” he says. “My mother goes by many names, but Ekkreth is not one of them. I’ve never met them.” He hesitates, for a moment, before he says ‘them’ - is it ‘he’? ‘She’? But he appears to have guessed the right pronoun. Tanai does not correct him.

    “Then how?” She asks.

    “I’ve always been able to do strange things,” Gabriel says. “Do you ask how you breathe, or how you think?”

    Tanai frowns, thoughtfully. “What else can you do?”

    Gabriel lifts his hand. Grains of sand lift from the floor of the cave, and slowly more join, until there’s a twisting river of them threading through the air with only a twitch of his fingers.

    “Make it move,” Tanai says, looking fascinated, and Gabriel smiles and acquiesces.

    They waste about half an hour, Earth time, doing that, and then Gabriel begs off to keep up some semblance of having human energy limits. Tanai lets him, and takes another quick drink of water. Barely half of it’s gone; she’s being very careful about how much she drinks.

    Gabriel convinces the bottle to never allow itself to be emptied. If Tanai needs water, she’ll have it.

    The storm slows, but it’s while still before Gabriel can say with confidence that it’s over.

    “Did your mother ever tell you about these?” Tanai asks, when Gabriel gets up to check outside.

    “It was never really her priority,” Gabriel replies. The wind has definitely died down, and sand is piled over everything, but on the other hand, he’s not buried under it. Not that that had ever happened.

    “Surviving it alone is a miracle,” Tanai says. “Two surviving one together means they are bound together more closely than any others could be to them.”

    Gabriel has a sudden, intense sort of....not flashback, he doesn’t get those, but for a moment he’s in a cave with snow outside, not sand, and Odin is sitting across the fire from him and offering a knife, hilt-first.

    “When you say close,” he begins, and lets her finish.

    “Soul-to-soul,” Tanai says.

    “As if my day couldn’t get any more interesting,” Gabriel says, and then immediately regrets his quick words when Tanai looks hurt. “Don’t - sorry. I just didn’t know. I have had a really, really long day, I need to remember to think before I speak.”

    He closes the space between them, and offers a hand. “C’mon,” he says. He gives Tanai a little boost of strength to get her onto her feet, because, well - there’s only so much he can do in, what, four hours? (He’s never been great at keeping track of time, alright, and that probably doesn’t matter here where they’ve probably got a completely different way of doing things).

    Tanai winces as she stands, reflexively; but it lasts for only a second, when her leg puts up no resistance and probably doesn’t so much as twinge. Gabriel doesn’t doubt that her left calf is the healthiest part of her body right now.

    “I don’t really know where I’m going,” he says.

    “Neither do I,” Tanai says.

    “Okay,” Gabriel says, and claps his free hand on her shoulder. “Well - step one, you probably left some family behind, right? I’ve never been a fan of slavery. You want to see what we can do?”

    Tanai looks startled. “What are you planning on doing? What _can_ you do?”

    “I could walk you straight up to whoever claimed to own you and he’d never recognize you,” Gabriel brags. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

    Tanai bites her lip. Gabriel doesn’t blame her for hesitating.

    “We can start small,” he says.

    “My sister,” she begins.

    “I’ll take care of it.”

    Gabriel lied a little bit; the actual step one is finding somewhere to live, somewhere they can outfit with enough tech to make their lives a little more comfortable in the middle of a desert. There are abandoned places, houses built up and cut deeper into the rock than they appear, that are difficult to find unless you know where you’re going. Gabriel doesn’t stop pulling water bottles out of thin air, but he allows himself to be persuaded that a moisture vaporator, whatever the hell that is, is necessary, along with everything else.

    Tanai knows her planet better, so he lets himself be dragged behind her as she finds necessary materials and shouts down merchants to a reasonable prince and never, ever stops looking over her shoulder.

    The only thing she ever sees is him.

    When Tanai looks around and declares things satisfactory, a good reception hall for one more and then who knows how many guests; _then_ Gabriel goes and gets her sister.

    He has directions to Mos Espa, and not much else. This is the first time he’s gone somewhere without Tanai since he arrived on Tatooine, and as much as he tries to convince himself otherwise he already misses her. It would be handy to have someone else around, who knew the way and could recognize who he’s looking for at once. But he’s picked up a little Basic, enough that he won’t start speaking Amatakka to anyone who won’t know it.

    Mos Espa is dirty and rusty, which isn’t exactly what Gabriel’s expecting, but all he’s got that even remotely resembles a frame of reference is turn-of-the-century Earth human movies, so it’s not like he was really expecting to stumble onto the bridge of the Starship Enterprise or whatever _._ He’s wearing his own Tatooinian clothing, too, Tanai having declared that he would never blend in looking like he did, not in those colors and styles.

    He’s still got his Earth clothing, tucked away in a safe space where he puts everything when he’s not using it. That space is probably pretty crowded now, actually, he’s got upwards of six millenia’s worth of stuff in there; and now it’s time for his Earth stuff to join it, for him to temporarily put that all behind him.

    The slave quarters are easy to find, because no matter how dirty, rusty, and slapdash Mos Espa is, they no doubt have the worst of it. Gabriel’s seen it all before (and he’s seen the movies, but honestly he’s not touching that because who knows what Lucas got wrong). Finding Tanai’s sister is harder. He can hardly go around asking people if they’re ‘Suna’, after all. But Tanai gave him as detailed a description as she could, so he’ll manage.

    Suna is ‘tall’ and has ‘dark hair’ and ‘wears an embroidered belt in dark brown and blue’. She will be wearing her hair up, and there will be a carved japor charm hanging from her belt that Tanai gave her. Gabriel should show her the identical one hanging from his own belt, so she knows to trust him.

    She is sitting outside of her house, working with a small amount of thread - weaving a tiny charm. Gabriel knows it’s her, because the worry clouding her mind is of a different kind than those around her. Less weary, sharper for all that it is new and there is nothing she can do to alleviate it.

    She looks up when he stops next to her, gaze wary.

    “Are you Tanai’s sister?” Gabriel asks, in Amatakka, and her eyes go wide.

    She drags him inside, as much as there is an inside to her tiny ‘house’. By the time she turns around from shutting the door, Gabriel has untied the japor charm from his belt and is holding it out to her.

    “It’s the same as yours,” he says. “She’s alive, if that’s what you were worried about.”

    Suna sags against the door. “Who _are_ you?” She asks. “You can’t - what if the Hutts find you and her?”

    “The Hutts don’t know who I am,” Gabriel laughs. “I’ve barely been on this planet for a month. I stumbled into a sandstorm on my first day, though, and when I found shelter it was already occupied.”

    He can see the metaphorical light go on over Suna’s head.

    “Is she alright?” Suna asks, desperately.

    “Better,” Gabriel replies. “She didn’t dare come back, but I promised I’d find you for her.”

    “That’s good,” Suna says, sighing. “I had thought-” She doesn’t finish, but Gabriel can guess what she meant to say.

    “She is safe,” Gabriel says, “and so will you be.”

    “What?” Suna asks, blankly.

    “Your transmitter,” Gabriel says. “It’s in your shoulder.” Just about. He could see the electricity of it, the metal pushing muscle out of the way.

    “ _What?_ ” Suna asks.

    Gabriel raises his hand, and pulls. The transmitter slides easily into his hand, not a millimeter of skin broken, and Suna clutches her shoulder.

    “You-” she begins, and Gabriel steadies her, dropping the thing on the floor. Suna inhales sharply as he fixes the damage, the empty space where metal had lingered for so long.

    “I apologize for not asking first,” he says, and lets Suna shrug his hand away. “I wasn’t sure you’d believe I could do it.”

    Suna stares at the transmitter on the floor. It sits innocuously, not even bloody.

    “You cannot be human,” she says faintly.

    “Funny, that’s exactly what Tanai said to me,” Gabriel says with a grin. “What do you say I take this somewhere very far away, and then I’ll take you to your sister?”

    “You can do that?” Suna still looks at the transmitter. “But everyone else,” she says.

    “In time,” Gabriel says. “There’s only so much I can do at once.” He’s definitely planning on coming back, now that he’s seen everything but the Hutts for himself.

    He snaps his fingers, and the transmitter vanishes, out into the depths of the desert where he’s sure no one will be nearby. He holds out his hand to Suna.

    “You’re my sister’s brother,” Suna says, as if she still doesn’t quite believe it, finally looking up from the now-empty patch of floor where the transmitter had vanished.

    “Yep,” Gabriel says.

    Suna takes his hand like she’s not sure what will happen when she touches him skin-to-skin. Gabriel smiles, and whisks her away.

    Suna and Tanai together are a force to be reckoned with. Barely one Tatooine day later half their house is rearranged. Another day and she’s made the thing that Gabriel’s pretty sure is an air conditioner of sorts work twice as efficiently. She and Tanai are barely ever in separate rooms, and after a certain point Gabriel excuses himself and lets them have some time without him.

    The desert stretches out to the horizon, the sun low in the sky. Everything’s cast in shades of orange, the rocks and the sand. Admittedly there’s a lot more sand than he’d like, but hey, he’s been in desert countries before. It’s nothing he can’t get used to.

    There’s a person blocking his view.

    Gabriel blinks. “Where’d you come from?” He’s used to people vanishing and appearing instantaneously - he does it enough himself - but he hadn’t expected it here.

    “The desert,” they say, smiling. “The question is, where did _you_ come from?”

    “Fair point,” Gabriel says. He does not elaborate. The other laughs when it becomes clear he is not going to answer.

    “So secretive!” They say. “When we are practically siblings!”

    “Oh?”

    “I come from the desert, and those who are mine come from the desert, and you are brother to one of mine.” They grin. “You see?”

    “Then forgive me for not recognizing you, Ekkreth,” Gabriel says, with unnecessary and dramatic formality, sketching a shallow bow and grinning in return. He’s good at recognizing other gods, but this universe’s possible differences meant he hadn’t been sure. “I haven’t been here for very long.”

    “Oh, I know,” Ekkreth says, sounding gleeful. “I noticed you come, and I noticed your sister find you. You’ve been _very_ busy.”

    “Given what I’ve heard of you, I doubt you disapprove.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge. Ekkreth laughs again.

    “Give me your name,” they say.

    “I’m not sure I have any to give,” Gabriel says. Tanai calls him Loki, but he’s not sure if he’s Loki here or not, so he’ll offer Ekkreth a bit of truth. It can hardly hurt.

    “Hm,” Ekkreth says. “Too many to keep track of. I know that well.”

    “Not quite,” Gabriel says.

    “I know what your sister calls you. Give me a different name to call you by, so you’ll know when it’s me.”

    Gabriel does not question Ekkreth’s implicit promise to show up again. “ _Gabriel,_ ” he says in Enochian, and the sand skitters away from his feet at the hint of the power of his true voice. “For now.”

    Ekkreth appraises him. “You are very strange,” they pronounce eventually.

    Gabriel laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

    “Me,” Ekkreth says, and dances away on the wind in the shape of a bird. It’s a much smoother process than Gabriel’s. Gabriel reflects that he should learn more of the local wildlife, if only to better recognize when he’s being watched.

    He must lose track of time, because when he jolts out of his thoughts it’s because Tanai is shaking him, and everything’s dark. Tanai is shivering.

    “Come back inside,” she says, and Gabriel does.

    There is a brief interval in which, to outside eyes, they do nothing much; then slaves start vanishing from under their ‘master’s’ eyes.

    Suna didn’t cause much of a stir when Gabriel freed her. Every once in awhile, someone will escape; it’s to be expected. But more and more, in such a short amount of time, attracts attention.

    The masters - the _depuran_ , in Amatakka - rage. They create tight curfews. They hire guards. They lock down the doors at night so not even the inhabitants of the houses can open them. Gabriel laughs and flies straight past them.

    People learn fast. The slaves stop being surprised by Gabriel showing up after about the third time. He’s impressed, but also expecting it - when their freedom is at stake, of course news would spread fast.

    Sometimes he’s refused. Parents send their children and stay behind to tell others what to expect, to tell them where to go. Some find their way out to their safe house on their own, braving the desert and possible explosion and finding where they’re hidden inside canyons. The black flag that Tanai insisted on putting up - only visible if someone’s already close enough to know where they’re going - probably helps a little. Apparently on Tatooine, black means freedom.

    Gabriel’s first thought is of a pirate flag, honestly, which is sort of similar. Tanai just looks confused when he mentions it to her, and asks for the rest of the story.

    Gabriel’s stories are popular, especially with the younger kids. Some of them are true, but most of them are made up. Generally, people aren’t as sure how to react to the true ones. He sticks to the made-up ones, except around Tanai.

    It gets a little crowded, with so many people, until Gabriel conveniently ‘finds’ a network of caves that they can expand into. Most only stay until they can find relatives they’ve been separated from. Plenty strike off on their own, starting farms or other methods of subsistence until Gabriel and Tanai’s little operation has turned into a network and the Hutts curse their names without even knowing who they’re cursing.

    If there’s one thing Gabriel’s good at, it’s going unnoticed, even when people are looking very hard for him.

    Even so, usually they go to Mos Eisley for supplies - better not to risk getting caught, even with everything that Gabriel can do. The Hutts are based in Mos Espa, and Mos Eisley is - well, a little more lax, with them not looming over their minion’s shoulders and pressuring them to ‘solve the problem’.

However.

Sometimes stopping by Mos Espa is just a part of the process.

“You’re looking in the wrong place, Gavariel,” says the person leaning up against the shelf Gabriel’s looking at and blocking his way out of the aisle.  

“That’s not how you pronounce it,” Gabriel says, trying to decide whether the mechanical part he’s looking for is actually in working condition. Is it covered in dust, or sand?

    “It’s the Amatakka version,” Ekkreth sniffs. Gabriel is pretty sure that Amatakka doesn’t have even a close translation of his name. Ekkreth looks nothing like they did the last time they and Gabriel spoke, but they never do. Even their clothes are different every time.

    “ _Gavri’el_ is closer,” Gabriel says, and decides the thing is so rusted under the sand even he couldn’t make it work. He’d have to know how it works, first. “I’m going to assume you’re not trying to tell me where to find a better deal?”

    “Ask your sister,” Ekkreth says.

    “I would, but she doesn’t like coming here.” Gabriel turns to face Ekkreth. “So? Who am I looking for?” Ekkreth’s come before, to warn Gabriel about danger that specific slaves are facing - slaves guessing wrong about the location of their transmitter and cutting too deeply to find nothing, slaves getting lost in the desert, slaves being betrayed by freedom trail members. It’s resulted in a couple timely interventions.

    “My mother’s favorite,” Ekkreth says, and Gabriel raises his eyebrows. He’s heard mostly vague references to Ar-Amu, nothing solid. He’s not a slave, and secrets are one thing slaves keep guarded close. But any favorite of _hers_ is important. “You’ll know her when you see her.”

    “How helpful,” Gabriel says dryly.

    “I’m serious,” Ekkreth says, and for the first time Gabriel believes them.

    “A woman, I’m guessing?” Gabriel asks. Ar-Amu is a great _mother -_ she’d be more likely to pick another woman, right?

    Ekkreth nods. “Their family is named for me,” they say, softly. “Do not take your time.”

    “When have I _ever_ done that?” Gabriel scoffs. “If that’s the case, I’m surprised you’re asking me to find her instead of doing it yourself.”

    “Don’t mistake this for giving them up,” Ekkreth says, and there’s a note of warning in their voice, the first hint of anger Gabriel’s ever heard from them. “Not to you, and not to anyone. Depur is guarding the slaves carefully, now, and this calls for boldness, not tricks.”

    “Alright,” Gabriel says, holding up his hands for a moment. “Peace, Ekkreth. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to tiptoe around someone else’s domain.”

    Ekkreth nods. Their eyes move to something behind Gabriel.

    “Are you _done_ yet?” The shopkeeper asks condescendingly in Basic. “I can’t have slaves cluttering the place up. Where’s your-”

    Gabriel gestures without turning around, and the shopkeeper’s vocal chords freeze. He makes a choking sound, grasping at his neck.

    “Convenient,” Ekkreth remarks, still in Amatakka.

    “It’s really all in the fine control,” Gabriel says. “I’ve had lots of practice.” He snaps his fingers, and the shopkeeper goes sliding towards the back of the shop. “Don’t think I’ll be coming back _here._ ”

    “Remember,” Ekkreth says, “mother’s favorite.”

    “I’ll keep a very close eye out,” Gabriel says. Ekkreth gusts out the door on a desert wind. They’re very fond of dramatic exits, Gabriel’s noticed.

    He leaves the shop - without fixing the shopkeeper - but stays in Mos Espa. If there’s someone here that Ekkreth wants him to find, he’ll find her; there has to be something urgent about her situation.

    He wanders around the settlement. He’s always been good at blending into the background, but now he takes it a step farther; he slows his pace, lets his sense of his physical self lapse a little bit, and tunes into the desert.

    The desert is everything, here. Ekkreth is the desert and the slaves and this woman is named for him. Gabriel takes turns without looking where he’s going, the rush of desert wind in his ears, and trusts that he’ll end up in the right place.

    He walks for a long time. He doesn’t bump into a single person, except for once, and that person stumbles and nearly knocks over someone else, and says in Amatakka “Oh, excuse - oh! Shmi, isn’t it? Shmi Skywalker!”

    They keep talking, but the name roars in Gabriel’s ears for a minute; then he shakes off the background noise of the desert and grounds himself again, and looks. He recognizes that name, with a faint bit of incredulity.

    Shmi Skywalker is tall-ish, bits of hair escaping from a plain bun. Her clothing looks worn and a little too heavy for desert heat; ill-suited material is probably cheaper, here. She looks tired, and she’s (only barely noticeably) pregnant.

    Ah.

    Gabriel wouldn’t have noticed, usually (she’s not showing very much) but there’s something different - with the fetus or her, he can’t tell, it’s too early in the process. If this is the mark of Ar-Amu’s favoritism...actually, he’s not that surprised. Maybe the gods here work in the same ways that some of his old friends did.

    _Do_ , Gabriel corrects himself. They’re not dead; just too far away to talk to. He’s only staying here until he can be sure whatever’s going on back home is done.

    Shmi Skywalker parts after a few moments of conversation with the friend; they exchange what must be a slave method of hand-touching that looks symbolic. Gabriel waits a few moments, then falls into step next to her.

    “They say Akar Hinlil is smuggling people off-planet,” he says in Amatakka, and Shmi starts and looks over at him. “The reason no depur has caught him is because he’s a ghost, now. So they say,” Gabriel adds.

    “If Akar Hinlil were a ghost, he wouldn’t be able to take the transmitters out,” Shmi replies, wariness edging her voice.

    “Maybe he has help,” Gabriel suggests. “Or ghost magic.” Evening, when the suns are setting, is an interesting time to be speaking of ghosts. The dual shadows of the people passing by create an interesting effect.

    Shmi’s smile is more like a flicker of one. “Maybe it’s only a person taking advantage of a legend.” She looks around, checking over her shoulder like Tanai still does sometimes, and says, “Would you like to continue this inside?”

    She leads him to a group of slave’s homes similar to the ones he’d found Suna in. Shmi’s ‘house’ is one room, plain but crowded with small items for making life that much easier.

    “I know who you are,” she says, when the door is closed.

    “I guessed as much,” Gabriel said, smiling. “People seem to expect me, now. I could never guess why.”

    Shmi seems put at ease by the sarcasm - most people are. Gabriel likes to make himself seem human, more relatable.

    “So,” he says. “One person taking advantage of a legend’s name, huh? If people really are calling me Akar Hinlil, I haven’t heard.”

    “You do seem to be only one,” Shmi says.

    Gabriel grins, and offers his hand. “Would you like to be proved wrong?”

    Shmi’s more likely to be affected by his usual mode of transport, so Gabriel goes carefully with her instead of quickly. Tanai turns around, startled, but relaxes when she sees Gabriel.

    “Why always straight into the house?” She asks; it’s an old argument by now. Shmi stares - at Tanai, at the comfortable room, at the machinery shoved into corners and obviously not as innocuous as it was intended to be.

    “Convenience?” Gabriel suggests. “A welcoming atmosphere as opposed to the rocks outside?”

    “That was...something,” Shmi says, faintly, having apparently recovered her voice.

    “Did you explain?” Tanai asks Gabriel.

    “I offered to prove her thoughts on the rapid freeing of slaves wrong,” Gabriel answers. Tanai sighs. “This is Shmi, by the way.”

    “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Shmi,” Tanai says, and gestures Shmi towards a chair. Shmi sits gratefully. “Gabriel can be a little overwhelming sometimes. I’m not sure he knows how not to be.”

    Gabriel tugged on one of Tanai’s braids in the universal annoying-little-brother way. “Don’t be mean. I’m great.”

    “And you forget that not everyone is used to being spirited across half the desert in the space of a second,” Tanai says.

    “ _You_ are,” Gabriel says. “Besides, I’m not done yet.” He focuses on Shmi. “Your transmitter? If you want me to do it.”

    “I don’t know where it is,” Shmi says, drooping like she thinks this is the end.

    “I do,” Gabriel says, looking for metal and electricity. It’s in her leg, like Tanai’s, not as close to the bone. He looks at Shmi, waiting for permission.

    “I want it out,” Shmi says, anger threading through her voice. Her hand, perhaps unconsciously, curls around her stomach.

    Gabriel smiles, and curls his fingers in like he’s holding something. The transmitter slides out without breaking any skin or muscle, cool under his fingers like all the rest.

    Gabriel vanishes it, as Shmi tenses in surprise, and crouches down. Shmi lets him touch her leg gently, sighs in relief when he makes the muscle smooth back down into the right places. The transmitters aren’t very big, but they’ve usually been in long enough that getting them out messes with how parts of the body work.

    “That can’t be all it takes,” Shmi says, startled. “I mean - thank you, but-”

    “Call it a talent,” Gabriel says, and stands back up. “No thanks necessary. I promise you won’t get blown up in your sleep.”

    “That’s not reassuring,” Tanai sighs. “I’ll explain, Shmi. Walk with me, we’ll find somewhere to get you set up. Oh, and don’t go anywhere, Gabriel, I wanted to talk to you about the vaporators-”

    “Gotcha,” Gabriel says - English, not Amatakka, the original word gets his point across better. Still, when Tanai walks away with Shmi, he goes outside.

    It’s not quite night yet, but it’s getting there. Gabriel can never remember whether krayt dragons are more or less dangerous at night. He has a feeling there’s some kind of animal he’s supposed to be watching out for, but then, what are the chances it can do anything to him?

    Gabriel sits down, on a rock that _doesn’t_ have a lizard on it. There are a couple good ones that are just about the right height to be used as chairs. He looks out at the horizon for a few moments, and then says, “Well?”

    “Can’t you let me announce myself just _once?_ ” Ekkreth complains, no longer a lizard (or...reptile-y animal that Gabriel doesn’t recognize). They’ve managed to once again completely transform themself. Their new face reminds Gabriel of a teenager who’d left with her family only a few months ago, to establish themselves fully as free people.

    “Next time you can send your daughter, if you want to be dramatic,” Gabriel says, turning to look at them. “Is Shmi your mother’s favorite, or will her child be?”

    Ekkreth gives him an appraising look. “You’re very quick on the uptake,” they observe.

    “Let’s just say I come from a place where children of gods and humans are very, very common,” Gabriel says. Ekkreth raises their eyebrows. “The kid, then?”

    “Why not both of them?” Ekkreth leans back casually, laces their hands together behind their head.

    “ _Is_ it both?”

    “I don’t know,” Ekkreth admits. “But I know my mother’s mark.”

    Gabriel thinks over his words, for a moment, before speaking.

    “Your mother,” he says. “Did she ask you to do this?”

    “What mother wants her favorite to be enslaved?” Ekkreth scoffs.

    “That’s not an answer.”

    Ekkreth gives him a long look.

    “What do you know of my mother?” They ask lightly, still leaning casually against the rock wall of the canyon that Gabriel and Tanai’s door opens onto.

    “Her name?” Gabriel shrugs _._ “I’m not one to pry. You’re not my gods.”

    Ekkreth inclines their head; either accepting the explanation or agreeing.

    “Tatooine was not always a desert,” they say, after a moment of silence. Gabriel leans back, too, and listens. “It used to be a garden, full of oases and flowers, and it was beautiful, and Ar-Amu lived there with her children. But Depur came out of the darkness, and trapped her in chains, and her children were stolen and enslaved by other depuran, and Tatooine dried up into a desert, because Ar-Amu grieved so much that she could not cry.”

    Gabriel says nothing, because it seems inappropriate to speak.

    “One day, she’ll be free,” Ekkreth says distantly. “We’ll cast off our chains and throw down our masters and the desert will bloom again.”

    “I’m sorry,” Gabriel says. “You must miss her.”

    “Yes,” Ekkreth says, in that same distant way, and then shakes their head like they’re shaking off water - or thoughts. “And you?”

    “What about me?” Gabriel asks, startled.

    “You have your reasons for doing this,” Ekkreth says. “What do you know of chains?”

    “I don’t like seeing people in situations like this,” Gabriel says. “That’s all.”

    Ekkreth laughs lightly. “Liar.”

    Gabriel hesitates, for a minute.

    “There were two men,” he says, looking away from Ekkreth and propping his chin on his hands. “They were very similar, both prone to wandering and forgetting what they were supposed to be doing, which was why when they were both young they had decided to be brothers. One of them liked learning, and he often went looking for knowledge, and one time he found more than he was looking for. He learned a prophecy, that foretold death and terror, and so he went back home and warned his brother the trickster of what would happen.

    “It happened that the trickster had many children, and he was troubled when his brother the wise man told him of what many of them were prophesied to do. He tried to convince the wise man that the future was not set in stone, but the wise man would not listen, and he locked away the trickster’s more monstrous children in far and remote places where they could not be found, where nobody could find them. The trickster was angry, and swore revenge, but when he followed through the wise man was furious enough that he took the trickster’s remaining children and enchanted one to kill the other, and put the first to death.”

    Ekkreth jerks in surprise at that. Gabriel pretends he doesn’t see.

    “And, of course,” Gabriel says, “with the trickster in such a position as he was, the wise man could not suffer him to run around free and unhindered.”

    Neither of them say anything, for a long time. Gabriel reflects that he sounded more bitter than he meant to. Normally he’s more adept at distancing himself from a story.

    ...Well. Not this one.

    “You were the trickster,” Ekkreth says.

    “What a fucking astute observation,” Gabriel says, then sighs. He never means to get riled up. He presses the heels of his palms into his face, as if that’ll help - he’s picked up on a lot of human body language, over the years. It always seems to help _humans._

    There is a light touch on his shoulder. Ekkreth’s hand is as cool as the desert at night, even though the layers of Gabriel’s shirts. It _is_ nighttime in the desert at the moment, so that makes sense.

    “You know chains better than I thought,” Ekkreth says, and they make it sound like an attempt at an apology.

    “Not as well as the ones who put me there would have liked,” Gabriel replies, with a grim kind of satisfaction.   

    “Oh?”

    “To shapeshift, you have to be able to forget,” Gabriel says. Ekkreth looks interested. “To be a woman, forget you’re a man. To fly, forget you don’t have wings. To be free...” He shrugs. “Convince yourself to forget you aren’t, and it’s a little easier.”

    “But not true,” Ekkreth murmurs.

    “Even a little freedom can be enough,” Gabriel says, “for however long it takes to arrange to be actually freed.”

    Ekkreth smiles, at that. “Forget, and find enough freedom to free yourself,” they say. “I like that.”

    “You would,” Gabriel says, and stands. “My sister will be wondering where I am.”

    “She already is,” Ekkreth says, and darts away on a sudden breeze before Gabriel can even decide not to ask how he knows.

    Tanai sitting just inside the door isn’t really a surprise, after that.

    “I told you not to go anywhere,” she says, sounding amused as she stands. “I...heard a little bit of your conversation.”

    “Yeah?” Through heroic efforts, Gabriel keeps his expression politely curious.

    “A bit about chains,” she admits. “I stopped listening when I realized it was private.” She looks critically at Gabriel for a few moments. “We don’t actually know much about each other, do we?”

    “I guess not.” He’s never felt the urge to press about Tanai’s slave life. But there were probably a few good moments in her childhood at least, he supposes.

    “I made tzai,” Tanai offers, after a moment where neither of them speak. “You want some?”

    “I could _really_ use a hot drink, yeah.” He’s never needed food and drink the way humans do, but that doesn’t mean he never needed it. And Tanai's offering one of her culture's most personal concoctions. That's something.

    They spend a lot of time talking that night. Gabriel is not good at sharing, but Tanai is clever and lets him tell stories while they both pretend that she doesn’t know he’s the protagonist. She tells stories, too, childhood tales and adventures with none of the dull, omnipresent pressure of slavery edited out.

    The tzai never goes cold, and their cups don’t empty until Tanai drinks the very last of hers and declares that she has to go to bed or she won’t wake up for a year. Laughingly, Gabriel follows suit.

    Minus the going to sleep part.

    He doesn’t need it, after all. Even when he’d tried, he’d never quite gotten the hang of it.

    Time passes, even when he forgets to keep track. Their network quietly grows, with more people and more things to do; resources, a helping hand even to those now free. Tatooine’s binary suns and three moons circle and wax and wane.

    Anakin’s born on a night where all three of them are _nearly_ full, only a night or two away from it, at different times in their respective phases. There’s a holiday the Tatooinians celebrate when all three _are_ full, but it’s nowhere near then, just the illusion of that night.

    Some would call it fortuitous. Gabriel wouldn’t know. There hasn’t been so much as a whisper from Ekkreth since their last rather heavy conversation. Maybe they’re busy; maybe Gabriel’s path and theirs have simply ceased to cross.

    Whatever the case, Anakin is mostly just a grumpy newborn baby, as babies generally are.

    But the _potential._ Gabriel can tell where the kid is at all times without even trying, just because of his _presence._ He’s not powerful yet, but the kid’s going to pack a wallop when he’s older, especially if he learns how.

    Gabriel knows it’s the Force, obviously. There doesn’t seem to be much else besides that and gods, here, unlike his own universe. He misses the variety of magic with a force that surprises him. But the Force, however it works, is strong as hell in Anakin.

    He’s still only like three days old, so Gabriel mentally shelves that topic to be picked back up a couple years down the road. He doesn’t mention it to Tanai, because then he’d have to explain how he knows, and he’s hardly going to start posing as a Jedi or something _now._

Besides, he never really liked the council. And if Lucas did get it right, he’s got nine years or so until the Jedi start being an issue.

    Whatever. He’ll cross and/or burn that bridge when he gets to it. It’s not entirely his decision, anyway.

    “You don’t know what his name means, do you?” Tanai asks, after Anakin’s born.

    “No?”

    “‘ _The one who brings the rain’._ Kind of ambitious.”

    Gabriel makes a noncommittal noise and does not mention Ekkreth or Ar-Amu or the favorites of gods.

    Anakin goes from crawling to toddling but doesn’t stop being underfoot. He develops a habit of clinging to people’s legs when he gets tired of moving under his own power. Gabriel thinks it’s endearing, but after a few weeks he’s the only one who still does.

    The common Tatooine opinion on parenting is a very communal approach. There’s Shmi and Suna and Tanai and Gabriel, of course, but Shmi’s not the only freed slave who decided to stick around. Kinla and Taalo have been there practically from the start, and Gabriel’s been trying to figure out if they’re identical twins or sisters for just as long. Nevu and Tena, Twi’lek brother and sister respectively, befriended Siha, half-Correllian, from the moment he walked in.

    Gabriel is pretty sure Shmi’s disappointed that there’s so few of them.

    Shmi, while he’s on the subject, is wound tense even after Anakin’s birth. Gabriel had watched her leave a message before he spirited her away, hidden inside a food container when she knew all her things would go to her friends. He knows what she’s waiting for.

    When Anakin is barely two, Reja Banai walks out of the desert with a baby on her back, screaming his displeasure at the journey he’d been brought on. She has a transmitter which Gabriel disposes of; the baby does not. Sneaking him out before he could get one must have been tricky.

    Still; no sign of Ekkreth.

    Anakin’s too young for Gabriel to be sure what he’s thinking, but he likes trying to get baby Kitser to do things, and appears to have appointed himself the older brother of the two. Gabriel’s like 80% sure that was in the movie, but it’s been a while, and he can’t exactly rewatch it here.

    Besides. Incredibly different circumstances.

    They’ve been proceeding with only a little difficulty, so far; Gabriel practically curses himself when something goes wrong, because of course something was going to go wrong, this kind of thing is never easy.

    Gardulla the Hutt, Depur of Mos Espa (which was by far home to the majority of the freed slaves) attacks multiple desert settlements, kidnapping people as a replacement for (or to gain back) those she’s lost. Only about half of them are home to ex-slaves; the rest are owned by families who are as much as fifth-generation freed.

    This cannot stand.

    Gabriel goes to Mos Espa; Tanai insists on going with him.

    Gardulla has a sort of palace, as much as Mos Espa’s architectural style can be called grand or palatial, but it’s certainly big. Gabriel knew what the Hutts looked like going in, but the real thing is _very_ different from watching it on a screen. Grosser in general, for one.

    Gardulla rumbles something in Huttese. Luckily she doesn’t seem inclined to stop saying whatever she’s saying, because that way neither of them have to talk - and Gabriel doesn’t know any Huttese. Yet.

    He catches a few words, enough to get the gist of things. Why are they here, who do they think they are, Do They Know Who She Is, et cetera, et cetera.

    When she finally pauses, dropping into an expectant silence, Gabriel says in Basic, “Attacking farmers is a bit of an overly arrogant move, isn’t it? Especially since you depend on them half the time for water.”

    Gardulla narrows her eyes at him in a move that completely fails to be intimidating.

    “They are only slaves,” she says contemptuously, and Tanai’s hand tightens around her staff. It’s metal, hardy, and has small extendable prongs at either end that conduct large amounts of electricity. She looks tempted to use it on Gardulla, and Gabriel is not inclined to get in her way.

    “They really aren’t,” Gabriel says, and smiles. It is not a nice smile, and it is far more intimidating than the overlarge worm in front of him. “But it doesn’t really matter, because you’re going to let them go.”

    Gardulla laughs. “Why would I do that?” In Huttese it’s a sneer, a challenge. Gabriel’s perfectly willing to take that challenge.

    “Because I said so,” Gabriel says, still smiling.

    “What can you do to me?”

    Gabriel’s smile turns sharp.

    There are slaves, in the hall. Some of them are wearing cuffs. No time to get transmitters into everyone, so cuffs will do, serving the same purpose without wasting time on surgery. As one, on every single person Gabriel can sense (inside the palace and out) who is wearing one, they click open and fall off, clattering to the floor and magically failing to work with a collective, ominous electronic wail.

    No one moves, for a second. Gardulla’s guards are caught by surprise; Gardulla herself is, too. Gabriel still smiles.

    One guard leaps forward, blaster in their hand. Gabriel doesn’t even look at him. The guard falls to the floor, unconscious. The rest of them, when they start forward in anger, follow him down.

    “The question is,” Gabriel says, “whether you can do enough to _me_ to stop me. Although I think you’d better be more concerned with how you’re going to get along all by yourself, with no guards to keep anyone in.”

    The kidnapped slaves take that for the cue he meant it to be. They slip out of servant’s entrances and secret doors, and some just bolt for the front door. There’s not a single guard awake in the whole compound, or indeed anyone in the city, who would stop them.

    Gardulla hisses, and it might be an insult in Huttese or just a noise, Gabriel honestly can’t tell.

    “You have no power but intimidation,” Tanai says. Her voice does not shake. A swell of affectionate pride puffs up in Gabriel’s chest. Tanai has little desire to set foot in Mos Espa for even minor supply runs; to stand here in front of a Hutt and speak rebellion is a hell of a step forward. “That ends now.”

    “Because you say so?” Gardulla growls, in Huttese, although it’s closer to a gurgle in Gabriel’s ears. She reaches to the side; Gabriel holds up the detonator for the slaves’ transmitters.

    “If this is what you’re looking for, you’re out of luck,” he says, and when Gardulla shrieks in outrage, he flicks his hand and vanishes it as he’s done with so many transmitters.

    “This isn’t over,” she threatens.

    “It really is,” Gabriel says, falsely apologetically.

    “I’ll-”

    “Do nothing,” Gabriel says. “You’re going to do nothing, because if I hear a single peep from you or anything about you, I’m coming back.”

    “You do not scare me.” Gardulla is making a valiant effort to sound threatening.

    Gabriel smiles, again. It is not an unkind smile, or a nice one, or anything more than a baring of teeth. “I should.”

    The foundations of Gardulla’s palace begin to shake.

    Small vibrations, first. Then the stone shifts enough that dust starts falling, from dislodged cracks in the ceiling. The pillars groan and shift. The windows rattle in their frames. There is frantic beeping and a noise that suggests somewhere, there are broken wires sparking and crackling.

    Gabriel puts a hand on Tanai’s shoulder, to steady her. Gardulla has no such luxury.

    “Enough!” She shrieks, when it seems that the stones will break into bits under their feet. Gabriel does not stop. The floor cracks, not quite in two, and the gap yawns wider as the crack lengthens, pointing accusingly at Gardulla. “ _Enough!_ I accept!”

    Everything stops, as if it had never been.

    The crack remains.

    “Glad we could have this chat,” Gabriel says.

    Gardulla isn’t much of a problem, after that.

    Anakin grows up, with Kitser practically attached at the hip. Reja and Shmi, of course, often end up working jointly - that is, more so than the rest of them already are collaborating. And Anakin and Kitser are the only children around, so they get _lots_ of attention.

    It seems like Gabriel blinks, maybe turns his back on them for a second, and the two kids are almost into double-digits and taking apart half the machines within reach. Anakin develops a weird obsession with podracing (despite the death toll) and wheedles his way into being taken into Mos Espa to watch the races. Usually Siha, who is something of a gambler, takes him, but sometimes Anakin tags along on supply trips and gets ‘lost’ and finds the ‘closest landmark’; unfailingly the podracing stadium. Kitser is an unrepentant enabler.

    Sometimes, he finds company before whoever’s supposed to be in charge of him finds him.

    “What part of ‘stay near me’ did you not understand?” Gabriel grabs Anakin by the back of his shirt, making Anakin jump. There are so many people around, he’s speaking Basic, not Amatakka; a secret language is ill-suited to public spaces. “I swear if you keep “getting lost” like this you’re going to get forbidden to come without at least three adults supervising you.”

    A poorly muffled snort makes him look up. Anakin’s company is an older man and two younger humans, one with a braid that stands out from his short-cropped hair and the other bearing a distinct resemblance to Natalie Portman.

    Gabriel does a quick count and remembers that Anakin’s just about nine years old.

    Huh.

    “I wasn’t even _watching_ the podracers,” Anakin complains, twisting in Gabriel’s grip. “I heard them talking and said I could help ‘cause I went down to the mechanic yard with Kinla that time-”

    Gabriel snorts so hard he nearly bends double. “You’re _nine,_ not a mechanic. Definitely not a freelance one.”

    “I could be both! And Kinla’s _here_ anyway, _she_ could help them.”

    “It’s not really a mechanical problem,” Padmé fucking Amidala volunteers. “We just need a part replaced. Though I suppose a mechanic would help for the actual process of replacing it.”

    Gabriel tries to remember where the three of them are coming from, now. Padmé hasn’t revealed herself as queen yet, surely. What even _was_ the main conflict of episode one? Did he ever even see the prequels? Surely the first one, at least, before everyone figured out that they were a little overblown and dramatic.

    “Whatever the case, Anakin’s not exactly _qualified,_ ” he says, and Anakin groans in complaint, trying to physically detach Gabriel’s hands from his shirt. “And if we don’t get back home in time, his mom’ll start worrying.”

    “I wanna see the _shiiiiip,_ ” Anakin complains. “It’s a J-type Nubian starship!”

    “How do you know that?” The older man looks startled. The fuck is his name, anyway? Jin? No, wait, Qui-Gon. That’s it. Gabriel frowns. Doesn’t he die like halfway through the movie?

    “You said the hyperdrive went wonky,” Anakin says, as if it’s obvious. “If it’s the hyperdrive then it’s probably a big fiddly ship that’s not meant to go that fast normally, so a Nubian, and the J-type’s the only kind that’s popular on Naboo. And you said you came from Naboo.”

    “That’s very clever,” Obi-Wan (still a padawan, here) says, looking surprised. Anakin preens, distracted from trying to escape by the compliment.

    “I got a holobook on starships for my birthday,” he brags. “There were a bunch of really cool pictures.”

    “Loki!” Someone calls, and Gabriel looks up to see Tanai squeezing through the crowd towards them. “Oh, good, you found him. Kinla’s down at the shipyard again, I thought I’d come find you.” She surveys Anakin’s three companions with a raised eyebrow.

    “Anakin’s decided to become a freelance mechanic,” Gabriel says dryly.

    “Oh, only just now?” Tanai responds without missing a beat. “I suppose we’ve lost him to the lure of space travel for good, then.”

    “I’m not _leaving_!” Anakin protests. Padmé looks amused; the two Jedi mostly look like they’re not sure what’s going on.

    “No, no, this was probably inevitable,” Gabriel teases. “We’ll just give you a good sendoff and let your mom know what happened-”

    “ _Stop,_ ” Anakin groans, looking intensely embarrassed.

    “We could send Kinla with him to supervise,” Tanai suggests. “Speaking of, we’d better go find _her_ before _she_ ends up being lured into space with some fancy ship.”

    “We’ll come with you,” Qui-Gon says - too quickly. “Our ship is down at the yard; we may as well check it over and see if we can’t repair things instead of replacing them.”

    “Sure,” Tanai says, before Gabriel can object.

    Qui-Gon falls into step next to Gabriel, once they’re away from the crowds around the podracing stadium.

    “Your son,” he begins, and Gabriel snorts again.

    “What, just because we’ve both got blond hair I must be his father? Try again.”

    Qui-Gon looks taken aback, but resolutely plows forward. “He’s very strong in the Force.”

    “Uh huh.”

    “Surprisingly strong, for such a young boy. How old is he?”

    “None of your business.”

    Qui-Gon frowns, but doesn’t appear to have the sense to see that he’s trying to broach a topic that Gabriel isn’t going to give him an inch on.

    “Normally in the Core it’s easier for children to be tested for Force-sensitivity, but it’s understandable that out here there wouldn’t be the resources,” he says, as if trying to reassure Gabriel.

    “Yeah, it was _really_ difficult to tell what was happening when he started flinging things around without touching them,” Gabriel says dryly.

    “You knew?” Qui-Gon looks absolutely shocked. “Then why not-”

    “Why not what?” Gabriel stops and turns to face Qui-Gon, blocking his way. Ahead of them, Obi-Wan lingers behind the group, waiting for his master with a puzzled frown. “Why not send him off to the Core to be trained? Send a nine-year-old boy away from his family with no warning just because he’s got some mystical powers so you can teach him how to fight and be a potential weapon for your government to use?”

    “The Jedi are impartial,” Qui-Gon manages. Gabriel scoffs.

    “Sure. And I’m sure they encourage kids to stay in touch with family and pretend that they’ll never need to actually _use_ the weapons they’re being trained with.”

    Qui-Gon makes a short, aborted move towards his lightsaber.

    “Without training,” he tries to say.

    “Who says he’s not trained?” Gabriel interrupts. “You think I can’t teach a kid how to use power responsibly? That I can’t tell when he’s getting in over his head and trying to do things he’s not capable of? You’ve been on this planet for half a day at most, pal. Keep your nose out of our business.”

    Gabriel turns and walks away to rejoin the rest of the group. He doesn’t look behind him to see if Qui-Gon follows. Anakin’s excitedly chattering to Tanai about J-class Nubian starships, unaware that he was the subject of their conversation.

    Gabriel will tell him. Later, when they’re back home. Anakin knows about the Force, he knows the ins and outs and dangers of power. Gabriel will go to Hell before he lets Anakin wander out into the world without knowing what the fuck he’s doing.

    How dare Qui-Gon come into _his_ place and judge him.

    They arrive at the yard without much fanfare. The Queen’s ship is impressive, certainly sleeker and cleaner than anything else in Mos Espa. Anakin peels off to find Kinla, leaving Gabriel and Tanai to the company of Jedi and a Queen in disguise.

    Gabriel would let Tanai in on the joke of neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan knowing who they’re keeping company, but if he remembers right Padmé has a very good reason to be in disguise. Dramatic irony is the worst kind of secret; there’s never anyone to share it with, here.

    When Anakin tows Kinla back to the group, Gabriel doesn’t let them linger. The Jedi and the Queen will be fine, probably. There’s plenty of places they can get their missing part.

    Except he can’t let it go.

    There’s something he’s forgetting, or maybe something he never knew, because he doesn’t _forget_ things. Either way...

    “If I said I wanted to go to the Core,” Gabriel says, a few nights later, and Tanai pauses in the middle of her habitual shifting around for half an hour under the blanket until she finds a comfortable spot. They share a bedroom, like most of their small household does, because despite the cave system and the house they’d claimed and partly built, there’s only so much room. “What would you say?”

    “Why the Core?” Tanai asks.

    “Naboo, really. That handmaiden...something else was going on with them. I don’t like it.”

    “Republic politics hardly affect us,” Tanai says.

    “They affect _someone,_ ” Gabriel says. “They affect the Core.”

    “And you care about the Core?”

    “Not really, but...” Gabriel sighs. “I don’t like to throw around words like _prophetic foreboding,_ but honestly, that’s all I’ve got for this.”

    Tanai is silent for several moments.

    “Not prophecy, but prophetic,” she says eventually.

    “It’s not one of my usual talents, but sometimes I get very strong gut feelings.”

    “About a place hundreds of light-years away?”

    “My species works on a large scale.”

    “Alright.” Tanai sits up, blanket pooling around her.“We’ll go.”

    “What, just like that, you believe me?”

    “You never talk about what you are,” Tanai says, and alright, that’s fair, he really doesn’t. “If you’re using that as justification, this is important.” Then she adds, “You’re telling Anakin that we’re leaving, though.”

    Anakin groans and begs to be taken along and has to be literally pried off of Gabriel so that he can leave. Gabriel promises to bring back souvenirs, which pacifies Anakin, but just a little.

    He’s not _entirely_ sure how to get to Naboo, but he made a quick trip around the Core and the Middle Rim while Tanai was asleep last night - it won’t be that hard, even with a passenger.

    “Do you trust me?” Gabriel asks.

    “What a stupid question,” Tanai says. “If you’re going to do something ridiculous and impossible again, just go ahead.”

    Gabriel grins, and slings an arm around Tanai’s waist, and they turn.

    Tanai does not stumble when they land on Naboo, but she holds on tightly to Gabriel and her staff. They each have a bag, easily carried, but on Naboo it’s a little heavier.

    “One of these days I’m going to demand a really in-depth explanation about all this,” Tanai says.

    “Not today?”

    “I’m concentrating on keeping my food down.”

    “Strangely enough, that happens to everyone,” Gabriel says, and pats her on the back. “You’ll be alright.” Mostly because he’s going to make sure she is.

    Tanai eventually straightens, and frowns, breathing in deeply. “What’s wrong with the air?”

    Gabriel sniffs in. “It’s humid, I guess.” He has to use the Basic word - ‘humid’ doesn’t exist in the vocabulary of a desert language.

    “What?”

    “There’s a lot more water in the air than on Tatooine. I think most of the planet is water.”

    “Oh, only _most,_ ” Tanai says; meaning to be sarcastic, probably, but she sounds more incredulous. She shakes her head in disbelief. “Before we leave, you’re taking me to see the water.”

    “Ocean,” Gabriel says in Basic. “I think that’s the word, anyway, planets like this have a lot of different words for water.”

    “You play translator, then.” Tanai looks around and frowns. “Do the Naboo normally look like that, or is something wrong?”

    Gabriel turns to look. They’re off to the side on a not-so-busy street, but there’s a fair amount of people passing, and most of them look some degree of anxious. The Naboo are human, mostly, so it’s easy to read their faces.

    “Told you I had a bad feeling,” Gabriel murmurs. “Let’s see what this is about, huh?”

    It turns out that despite the vastness of space and the size of the planet, it is still feasible to set up trade blockades.

    “I’ve heard of the Trade Federation,” Tanai says, as they take refuge in the booths of a Naboo café. It looks like a café, anyway, but they might have another word for it here. Several Naboo humans are tapping away on datapads or whatever the hell they call their computers.

    “What about ‘em?”

    “They’re pretty ruthless. Mostly trying to dodge Republic taxes, I’ve heard, but they control trade almost everywhere in the Core and Republic worlds.” Tanai shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve heard they have seats on the Senate, which seems weird.”

    “So a possibly corrupt trade corporation?” How familiar. This is almost disappointing. Gabriel came here for indulgent sci-fi and escapism, damnit. “Who runs it?”

    “No idea. You could look it up.” Tanai gestures at the small, inset glass on the table. Gabriel had thought it was decorative, but a poke turns the screen on. It blinks a welcome message up at him in Basic.

    Gabriel doubts it comes equipped with Google.

    He finds the name of the Federation’s viceroy, which he doesn’t recognize. He finds the name of a particular senator from Naboo, which he does.

    “What?” Tanai says, and leans forward, evidently noticing something. She reads what Gabriel's looking at upside down - it's in Basic, not whatever language the Naboo speak. “Palpatine? Never heard of him.”

    Gabriel says nothing. Tanai looks up at him, curiosity mixed with faint suspicion.

    “Another gut feeling?” She asks.

    “Something like that.”

    Tanai flicks her hand across the screen, dismissing the page Gabriel had managed to call up.

    “Look, Loki,” she says. “I’ve seen you practically shake a building to pieces without moving a finger. If you know something because of whatever it is that you are, _tell_ me. What do you think I’m gonna do? You’ve never lied to me.”

    Gabriel wishes that were true. He’s lied in a hundred tiny ways. He’s not sure he knows how to stop.

    He looks around, just to confirm no one’s listening. No one would be able to hear them, anyway, he’s been making sure.

    “He’s going to start a war,” he says. “I think I might kill him first.”

    “Oh, if _that’s_ all.” Sarcastic, but not too shocked.

    At least if he’s going to do this, he’s accompanied by her. On Tatooine, political assassinations and corruption aren’t even news anymore.

    Gabriel’s poisoned people before. He’s never been a fan of using easily-identified mixes, but here no one would know what nightshade or hemlock even is. The problem is, there’s no nightshade or hemlock to use. He can’t use a spell, because none of the usual ingredients exist on this planet, much less this universe.

    Gabriel misses his home universe with an unexpected ferocity. He doesn’t like being out of his depth. He can’t use poison or even a spell, not even the stereotypical witchcraft kind. Here, the only thing he knows that he could blame it on is the Force.

    “What are you doing?” Tanai surveys the various herbs scattered across the table with wariness. Gabriel had ‘found’ some money and paid to use the backroom of a shop with no interruptions for a few hours.

    “Experimenting,” Gabriel says. “Preferably whatever we’re going to do will be untraceable, or at least unidentifiable, but most of the stuff I’d normally use is - well, I can’t make it as usual because there’s no way to get my hands on everything I’d need.”

    “So you need to substitute.” Tanai sits down. “What do you need?”

    They try their hand at recreating a few concoctions. One spell fizzles out, the other does nothing, a third explodes. An attempt at poison results in a cocktail sort of drink, which actually tastes very good but doesn't help them much.

    “You know what?” Gabriel says. “Fuck it. Show me to the nearest black market and we can sit back on Tatooine and watch everyone freak out about a murder with no suspects.”

    “The hell do you think I know about Naboo black markets?”

    The matter is further complicated by the discovery that Palpatine is on Coruscant, not Naboo.

    It takes some quick thinking and liberal use of Grace, but eventually Gabriel and Tanai are pressed up against a wall, listening to Palpatine shout at somebody over a comm.

    “There was supposed to be a vote of no confidence!”

    “Queen Amidala tried, my Lord, but she was worried for Naboo-”

    “Lord?” Tanai says under her breath. “Is that how they address people here?”

    “I don’t think so,” Gabriel mutters back. It is, however, how a Sith Lord is addressed.

    “-we couldn’t persuade her to stay. Perhaps she’ll try again. The situation on Naboo is dire, she can’t have that many options.”

    “Make _sure_ of it,” Palpatine snaps. “It would be a waste of the blockade if Valorum is not removed from office.”

    “Valorum?” Tanai whispers. Gabriel shakes his head. He doesn’t recognize the name. He does, however, spy a pitcher of water on the table.

    Gabriel saunters over to the table, taking the tiny packet they’d found out of his pocket. It was full of very small, tiny saltlike crystals that dissolved completely in the water.

    Palpatine, with only a little push, gets very thirsty.

    “Alert me when you have finished.” There’s the fzzt-y sound of the comm closing, and Palpatine strides out. Tanai muffles a gasp, but he brushes past Gabriel without seeing either of them and goes for the pitcher.

    Gabriel winks at Tanai. “Time to make our exit?” Palpatine doesn’t hear anything. He’s busy pouring herself a glass.

    Tanai nods.

    When they get back to Tatooine, after Gabriel made good on his promise and took Tanai back to Naboo to visit the nearest lake, Anakin latches onto Gabriel’s legs again and demands his souvenirs. Gabriel produces a tiny bunch of Naboo flowers, with wide blue petals and a purple center, that flourish in the vaguely sandy water Anakin procures to keep them in.

    They never hear anything about Palpatine or Naboo, but they’re on Tatooine. Nobody cares about anything to do with a Republic Senator or a Mid-Rim planet unless it directly affects them. Which it doesn’t, usually. Gabriel is mostly okay with that.

    Anakin grows up, Kitser still attached at the hip. He gets better at using the Force (using it _responsibly,_ not so much, but Gabriel’s not exactly the best teacher in that department) There’s a couple of near misses with their operation - once a bounty hunter walks straight past their door - but hey, _Gabriel’s_ in charge of it. What could happen?

    “I want to go to Coruscant,” Anakin says one day, and Gabriel looks him up and down and realizes he’s a fucking adult. Time is ridiculous and Anakin has absolutely grown up at _least_ 50% faster than humans are supposed to.

    “What for?” Gabriel says, instead of ‘but you’re a child’ or ‘when the fuck did you get so tall’.

    “The Republic’s got laws against slavery,” Anakin says, sounding heated. “I want to remind them how to do their jobs.”

    Shmi, who is also in the room, has put down the shirt she was repairing. Gabriel’s not sure whether to feel intensely proud of the kid for his motives, or nervous at what’ll happen to Anakin on Coruscant, and he thinks she’s experiencing the same conflict.

    Hold on. Gabriel knows this feeling.

    “Well, I’m not your mom,” Gabriel says, only sort of lying.

    “I was talking to _both_ of you,” Anakin says, sounding exasperated. “Tena thinks I should go.”

    “You told Tena before you told me?” Shmi asks. “ _Anakin._ ”

    “I thought you might - technically, this is _safer_ than what you’ve been doing!” Anakin protested. “Tena was the only one I could think of who wouldn’t immediately tell me I was too young. Which I’m not,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

    “You’re nineteen,” Shmi reminds him.

    “That’s not that young! And apparently it’s old enough to help with the freedom trail,” Anakin says. “I almost ran into bounty hunters that one time-”

    “Because you _weren’t_ supposed to be there,” Gabriel interrupts. “You were thirteen and thought you were invincible.”

    “I’m not a kid anymore,” Anakin retorts. “Kitser thinks I should!”

    “Kitser is younger than you,” Shmi says, standing up. “Anakin, Coruscant is a long way away. The Senate is a bunch of _politicians._ ”

    “I don’t care,” Anakin says, mulishly. “Some of them have got to be able to listen to sense.”

    Gabriel snorts. Anakin turns injured eyes on him.

    “Hey, _I’m_ not the one who gets to make the final decision here,” Gabriel says. “Ask your mom.” Communal parenting makes parents out of them all, but Shmi’s always had the final say in matters regarding Anakin.

    Shmi holds Anakin’s petulant, stubborn gaze silently for a few moments.

    “I’m coming with you,” she says, and Anakin brightens. “I have no doubt Kitser’s going to wrangle his way into going with you, and I don’t trust either of you to make sure the other’s being responsible.”

    Anakin hugs her tightly. “Thank you thank you thank you! I promise I’ll be responsible.”

    “Obviously, when we’re there to keep an eye on you,” Gabriel says.

    “We?” Shmi raises her eyebrows at him over Anakin’s shoulder.

    “Of course _I’m_ coming, who of any of us has actually been to Coruscant before?”

    “You were only there for like a day,” Anakin protests, letting go of his mother to face Gabriel. He looks troubled. “And you can’t leave, anyway!”

    “Why not? Is there a mysterious force I haven’t noticed keeping me on Tatooine?”

    “What about - this?” Anakin gestures vaguely. Gabriel’s large, largely-unmentioned contribution to the freedom trail hangs in the air.

    “Things won’t fall to pieces if I’m off-planet,” Gabriel says. “C’mon, I know what I’m doing.”

    Tanai, who happens across him in the middle of the following night, does not appear to agree with that statement in the least.

    “Do you do this every night?” She asks, sounding like she’s not sure whether she wants to hear the answer or not.

    “Just when I’m about to be off-planet for as long as it takes for Anakin to change the Senate’s mind.” Gabriel draws a curved line very carefully. Inhuman abilities really come in handy when trying to draw sigils.

    “What is it?”

    “Some stuff. Protection.” It’s the third ward he’s done tonight, even counting the Enochian spun into the very walls of the place. “We’re not leaving for a week. I thought I’d go out to some places, make sure they won’t get any negative attention.”

    Tanai huffs, and kneels on the floor next to him. “Loki, come on.” When he doesn’t look up immediately, she pokes his shoulder. “You’ve already done plenty. The trail will survive without you.”

    “Yeah, of course, I’m just making sure,” Gabriel says quickly.

    “You’re not the only one who wants to see everyone freed,” Tanai says. “Don’t underestimate everyone else just because you can’t see them living up to your standard.”

    “That’s not what I-”

    “Go the fuck to bed, Loki, and think it over in the morning.”

    Gabriel finishes the sigil. The chain of them around the doorway flare for a moment, with a light mostly invisible to human eyes. “...Okay.”

    They’re not leaving for a while, anyway. He doesn’t have to do it all tonight.

    Only a few nights before they leave, all three of Tatooine’s moons are full. It’s a holiday, once Anakin had specifically scheduled around (he’d had everything planned out before he even asked, the little sneak. Gabriel’s very proud).

    Marokkepu is Tatooine’s New Year, except it lasts a week. Gabriel’s still sort of on the fringes of the community, as far as knowledge goes - he’s not and never has been a slave, especially not on Tatooine - but Tanai is his sister, so he’s allowed to participate and all. It’s a complicated situation, but Gabriel accepts it with grace. It’s not like he’s never encountered a religion that the practitioners were reluctant to share, before.

    The three full moons shine down on a riot of color in the desert. People wear colorful (and symbolically colored) costumes and clothing, and there are small fires and candles everywhere; in the center of the small tent-town they’ve erected, near Gabriel’s and the other’s house but not so close to allow it to be revealed if they’re interrupted, there’s a huge bonfire roaring in a pit, nearly bright enough to blot out the stars. Three full moons, this one day of the year, is the highlight of their holy week.

    A community of free slaves have a lot to celebrate, on a night that calls down for masters to be overthrown. They’re here, they’ve done it, they’re free. There’s a bit of a somber undertone - not _everyone_ is free, not yet, and there are masters still out there - but tonight, that’s not the main focus. The focus, mostly, seems to be on using all their fires to burn small effigies of their masters. Gabriel can _completely_ understand that part of the holiday.

    The most important part of it seems to be that there’s no need to hide the celebration.

    Gabriel lets himself be dragged into dances, laughing, big communal circles with drummers keeping the beat. He teaches a group of excited children who can barely stay still a dance that hasn’t been performed since he was in the Egyptian desert, keeping an eye on Moses and the Midianites.

    Tanai doesn’t have her staff with her - a rare occasion - and wears loose, jewel-bright clothing. Gabriel doesn’t exactly match - he’s wearing some very, very old pieces that are distinctly non-Tatooinian - but hey, he’s colorful enough that no one minds.

    Everyone’s so _thrilled_ to be celebrating their holiday loud, proud, and all over the place that it’s infectious. Gabriel couldn’t worry if he wanted to. And who cares if Ekkreth hasn’t shown so much as a whisker of their presence? They’re everywhere in every single one of these people, and Gabriel doesn’t need a foreign god to give him permission to have fun.

    Tanai drags him into another dance, one with a lot of complicated steps that Gabriel learns on the fly. Someone’s produced a flute-y kind of instrument and is valiantly trying to play over all the drummers and clapping. There’s singing, too, simple call-and-response songs that absolutely _everyone_ joins in with. There’s a lot about freedom, a lot of old-fashioned but very carefully meaningful phrasing. Gabriel’s not sure if it’s his heartbeat he’s hearing or the pace of the drums, of the clapping, the swell of emotion from the song.

    It’s the best time he’s had since he got here.

    Later, when most of the younger participants have conked out from exhaustion and the moons are almost directly overhead, things cool down a little. Everyone seems to have congregated around the big fire; the adults are still going strong, talking and chattering and someone playing drums faintly.

    He’s not expecting everyone to quiet down in a hurry when a child starts singing. He looks over at Tanai, but she’s staring at the fire, gaze distant in a way that suggests she’s not really seeing it.

    Gabriel listens, but not to the words. He gets the feeling that this is a very, very intimate kind of song, for them.

    Is it possible to feel simultaneously included and isolated?

    A few verses go by, each sung by someone new; the last one is sung by a very old woman, who is sitting only a few people away from Gabriel. She quiets down at the end of it; then, slowly, more people raise their voices. Gabriel recognizes the child’s voice. Each person who already sang joins back in.

    It’s beautiful.

    Gabriel understands why this week is considered to be an absence; a gap between one year and the next, belonging to neither. Stuff like this doesn’t belong to anything as concrete as time.

    Timelessness doesn’t last forever. They leave for Coruscant on the first day of the new year - ‘they’ being Anakin, Kitser, Shmi, Gabriel, and Tanai. Reja dislikes space travel and insists on being commed every week, at least, and Suna gives Tanai a heartfelt goodbye and promises - or perhaps threatens, to Kitser - to drop in on his mom’s calls as much as possible.

    Anakin knows exactly what they’re doing - passage in a freighter leaving from Mos Entha that takes hours, arrive at this specific Coruscanti port, take a shuttle-bus-ish contraption into what passes for downtown in a planet that’s already choked by a city. Anakin all but drags them into the tiny, off-blue apartment he’s found and secured with his own money.

    Smart kid.

    Gabriel sends a tiny glitchy thing to the owner with a touch, makes their records forget how much Anakin’s paid and show it as paid in full no matter what.

    They’ll probably pay some kind of rent occasionally, but it’s not that big of a place and there’s five of them.

    Gabriel stretches things a bit, maybe breaks a few minor laws of physics so they’re comfortable but not cramped. Anakin and Kitser take one room, and Shmi and Tanai take the other - it’s technically Gabriel’s too, but he never uses that bed. They need the space more than he does.

    There are two other rooms - technically three, but the kitchen and dining room are only technically separate. Gabriel spends little time in the apartment; he’s out all hours exploring Coruscant.

    There is always something else to see, always something new to discover, always something he’s missed. They have simulated environments because they’ve ruined the planet’s natural processes. Railways cross over the same street five times over and the skies are full of spaceships, not clouds. Not even spaceships, sometimes, just your average flying cars that aren’t meant to go off-planet at all.

    Humans do stupid things sometimes, like turn a whole planet into a city and end up having to make their own wild, green spaces, but he can’t fault their innovation.

    Of course, they’re only there for like three days before some Count tries to start a secession movement and Senator Amidala almost gets assassinated.

    Gabriel is involved, somewhat tangentially, in the latter.

    Look, he saw someone toss a blinking explosive into the spaceport, obviously he was going to do something about it. He just didn’t expect it to be _her_.

    “Hey, so,” Gabriel says, returning to the apartment with Padmé and her completely uninjured bodyguards and double, “I may have inadvertently thwarted an assassination and now the Senator needs somewhere to hide since no one’s sure who did it. We may need to make some space.”

    Anakin looks surprised; Padmé doesn’t appear to recognize him. Corbé (the double), having ditched the Senator’s robes (unknowingly to Gabriel’s secret hiding place) looks remarkably like her, and Anakin at first doesn’t seem to be able to tell which one of them is which. Padmé’s bodyguards linger uncomfortably near the walls.

    “It has to be the Military Creation Act,” Padmé says, sitting on their dinky sofa with one arm over Corbé’s shoulders. She’s speaking Basic, like Gabriel had, for the benefit of the small culture clash that was currently being housed in their apartment. “The Senate wants to give the new Chancellor emergency powers to force the Separatists to rejoin the Republic. It’s ridiculous, but obviously someone wants it to go through.”

    “Very badly, it seems,” Tanai says. They’re arranged somewhat awkardly - Anakin is perched on the arm of the sofa next to Padmé, Kitser standing next to him, and what with the bodyguards and Gabriel, Tanai is crammed a bit into a corner by the window and Shmi is forced to lurk in the hallway behind Kitser.

    “What exactly does it do?” Kitser asks. “The Act.”

    “It allows the Chancellor to create a standing army,” Corbé says. “To face the Separatist ‘threat’. Honestly, they only withdrew from the Republic because they thought the Senate was corrupt.”

    “They’re saying it isn’t?” Tanai looks skeptical. “Aren’t all governments?”

    “Excuse _me,_ ” says Padmé. “I’m part of that government.”

    “Forgive the Tatooinian skepticism, then,” Gabriel interjects. “But is she wrong?”

    Padmé sighs. “I don’t know. I would like to say no, but I’ve found myself hoping it’s nobody I know who hired assassins.”

    “It could be a Separatist attempt,” one of the bodyguards says.

    “Why would a Separatist try to kill a Senator siding against a bill that threatens them?” Shmi asks, frowning.

    “I don’t know,” Gabriel says. “How ‘bout we find out who would?”

    Obviously this culminates in Gabriel, Anakin, and Padmé on a roof, getting shot at.

    To be fair, it’s only the one dart, and Gabriel grabs it out of the air before it can hit anyone.

    “For fuck’s sake,” Gabriel says, as Anakin and Padmé jump. “It’s been what, ten hours?” The dart is making his fingertips feel all pins-and-needles, which suggests that it’s been poisoned. What an intriguing development. First a large noticeable bomb, and then a poisoned dart no bigger than a very large mosquito?

    “Is that-?” Padmé’s eyes are wide.

    “Don’t do anything stupid,” Gabriel says, because he’s already figured out where the dart came from, and when he lands there there’s a rapidly fleeing bounty hunter in purple and silver.

    Gabriel freezes her in place with a gesture. “Nice night for a chat,” he calls, still in Basic. That’s always a good first linguistic attempt. The bounty hunter’s back is to him, but it’s easy enough to cross the rooftop to face her, plucking her name and her co-conspirator’s from her mind as he does. “Wesell, was it?”

    Zam Wesell says nothing.

    “Ah,” Gabriel says, and gestures, freeing her enough to speak. “Right. Sorry, I forget these things sometimes.”

    She glares at him. She looks human, but Gabriel can tell she isn’t. Some kind of shapeshifter, maybe.

    “Nothing?” Gabriel asks. “Alright, how ‘bout we talk to your boss then?” He snaps his fingers, and the switch to a different rooftop, where a different bounty hunter is taking aim at where they’d been a minute ago.

    He spins, gun still in hand. Gabriel snaps, and it becomes a sunflower.

    “Much better,” he says cheerfully. The hunter - Jango Fett, and isn’t that a familiar name -  tosses it aside and tries to punch him.

    There are a few exciting minutes in which he ‘forgets’ to keep freezing Zam Wesell and she leaps into the fight, and to their credit they both try their hardest, but they’re only human - well, and whatever Wesell is. Definitely not anything near an angel’s league.

    Gabriel breaks the scope off Fett’s rifle and peers through it at Anakin and Padmé. They appear to be making out.

    “ _Well_ then,” Gabriel says out loud. Behind him, both bounty hunters are too busy trying to escape the snakes - and the handcuffs, and the various other things Gabriel had conjured for his own amusement mostly - to pay much attention.

    ...He should probably do something about them.

    Eh. There’s gotta be police on Coruscant somewhere.

    Gabriel snaps his fingers, and turns towards the now-unchallenged bounty hunters.

    “So,” he says. “The eternal question. Who hired you?”

    He waits patiently while they both try to run and simultaneously discover that their feet are anchored in place.

    “Fuck off,” says Wesell. Her hands are flexing in a way that suggests she’s thinking of taking her boots off and booking it. The other, Fett, says nothing.

    “Not planning on it,” Gabriel replies. “I mean, there’s probably a shortlist of people somewhere who want the Senator dead, and they’re probably all Separatists, but it would be a lot easier if you just told me.”

    There is a flicker of a thought, in Fett’s mind. Neither of them say anything.

    Gabriel sighs dramatically, and sits on the edge of the small ledge that borders the roof.

    “Well, that’s a point in your favor, at least,” he says. “And here I thought I was going to have to tell the Count that he’d be better off hiring someone actually competent.”

    Both of them freeze in surprise.

    “This is a test?” Fett says angrily. “You could have waited until we’d actually finished the mission!”

    “What would be the point of that?” Gabriel asked flatly. “To wait until you’d been caught? I don’t think so. You might have told the Jedi or the Senate a lot of things.”

    “We _wouldn’t,_ ” Wesell protested. “You just saw that for yourself-”

    “Yeah, but I didn’t know that before, did I?” Gabriel leans back as casually as one can when leaning out onto a sharp drop. “I’m surprised you didn’t wait longer after the first attempt failed.”

    “It should have worked,” Fett says. “The senator-”

    “Was a decoy,” Gabriel says. “Don’t you know anything about the Naboo? They use decoys for everything. Your real target was an aide who got away completely unscathed and _would_ have even if everything had gone completely as you’d planned.” He raises a sardonic eyebrow as Fett falls silent. “Nothing else to say for yourself?”

    “That _is_ the Senator on the roof, though,” Wesell says.

    “Do you think so?” Gabriel turns around and peers through the scope again. Padmé and Anakin are no longer making out, luckily, but their heads are bent very close together. “It’s a passing resemblance, if you ask me.”

    “How often have you seen the senator for Naboo?” Fett asks, a note of scorn in his voice.

    “How often have _you?_ ” Gabriel retorts, facing him again. “Obviously not often enough.”

    “So we let her get away?” Wesell demands.

    “ _I’ll_ take care of it,” Gabriel says. “ _You_ can go explain to the Count why I had to intervene.”

    Neither of them look happy about that. Good.

    “There’s still time,” Wesell says.

    “If you want to risk that, sure,” Gabriel replies. “I’m sure your companion here will very quickly take responsibility for you.”

    They both look at each other without moving their heads. Gabriel can guess what each of them is thinking. _Would they kill me to protect the mission?_

    “And I tried a _lot_ less harder than any Senatorial security detail would to get answers out of you,” Gabriel adds. “Well, go on. Get out’a here.”

    They go, reluctantly. Gabriel pops back to Anakin and Padmé.

    “Good news, the assassins are gone,” he says, as the two of them hastily spring apart. “Bad news, they’ll probably be back once they realize that their boss didn’t hire me to be a third assassin slash overseer, but at least we know their names now!”

    “What?” Padmé asks, startled. Anakin, who grew up with Gabriel, takes it in stride with only a raised eyebrow.

    “Bear with me. By the way,” Gabriel adds, “do you know why Count Dooku would want to kill you?”

    “ _What?_ ”

* * *

 

 

**Tanai and Gabriel on Tatooine!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment, please! Part two is coming soon-ish. I have a couple pages written already; I still have to cover whatever happens to with the rest of episode 2 and episode 3!
> 
> Tanai is my new favorite character, honestly. There should be a movement within the fandom to give Gabriel nicer family members. The ones he's got don't deserve him.


	3. Prequels pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WERE YOU EXPECTING A LATE-NIGHT UPDATE? OR PERHAPS A NEW CHARACTER INTRODUCED LATE IN THE GAME? PROBABLY NOT BUT HERE YOU GO!
> 
> This covers most of the events of Episode 2 - given how drastically things have changed, I think I can get away with not including Episode 3.
> 
> Also, more songs for this chapter! The two that Gabriel sings later on are all I've got, but if I find an excuse to use anything from the Moana soundtrack, you'd better be damn well sure that I'm gonna.  
> The Raven - Karliene  
> Hey Brother - Avicii

    They walk back to the apartment, since there’s no risk of assassins anymore and Cordé is still publically the Senator, not Padmé. Anakin has to pull Gabriel back onto the path several times, occasionally out of the way of speeders or speedwalking pedestrians.

    “What do you keep wandering off for?” He eventually demands. “Do you know another way or something?”

    “No, I just-” He just what? Gabriel looks around, up at the tall spires of Coruscant, tries to pinpoint where he keeps trying to go. There’s an old, long-unused sense tugging at him, telling him-

    Gabriel takes off.

    There’s a shout of surprise from Anakin, but that’s not important now, because that’s the presence of another angel’s Grace tugging on him, there’s someone else here on Coruscant and they can’t have followed him but if someone’s _here-_

The other presence notices him and bolts off. Gabriel zigzags wildly through Coruscant’s atmosphere, trying to simultaneously follow and go around to cut them off. It’s familiar, familiar enough that Gabriel’s almost worried. They could be _anyone._

    When they both skid to a stop, having somehow managed to head straight at each other, there’s a moment of stunned silence.

    “Gabriel?” She asks, shocked, in Enochian, and out of reflex he replies in kind.

    “Anna? ”

    They meet halfway.

    Anna’s clutching at his arms hard enough to hurt, but Gabriel’s holding her just as tightly, arms wrapped around her.

    “I thought-”

    “Where did you _go-_ ”

    “I didn’t know it was you, I thought they found me-”

    “How did you _get_ here?”

    “How d’you think?” Gabriel laughs in pure relief and delight, leaning away to look Anna in the eye. “I came here on my own. How did _you_ -”

    “I don’t know,” Anna says. “I was-” She falters, and worry knots in Gabriel’s chest. “I just left. I wasn’t trying to get anywhere.”

    “That’s one way to do it,” Gabriel says lightly, trying to relax her. Something about Anna’s off; feathers askew, a few things just _different_ or looking like they’ve been hurt-

    Oh, no. Naomi. _What did they do to you, sister?_ He doesn’t dare ask.

    “And it’s not a bad place, you know?” Gabriel says, to distract himself from his own thoughts.

    “Hardly.” Anna manages a smile. “And, well, _Star Wars._ ”

    “I _know,_ right?”

    “Palpatine’s dead, though, and I haven’t heard of any Jedi Master Skywalkers.”

    “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Gabriel says, falsely casually, and Anna narrows her eyes and then _laughs._

    “Gabriel. You didn’t!”

    “Oh, come on, what was I supposed to do?” Gabriel says teasingly. “So I landed on Tatooine, maybe changed a few things.”

    Anna’s laugh is infectious. Her grip on Gabriel’s arms has eased a little.

    “You’re really here,” she says, which is - mildly worrying? The way she says it...“It’s really you.”

    “Yeah,” Gabriel says, “it’s me,” and he hugs her again, because he can. Anna is solid and warm, warmer than any human, warmer in only the way that a being of near-infinite light compressed into a human-size shape can be.

    “Wait,” Anna says. “You landed on Tatooine? Then why are you here?”

    “I’ll explain on the way,” Gabriel says. “I made a few friends you should meet.”

    Their method of travel is instantaneous, but luckily they can talk just as fast, and Gabriel isn’t called the Messenger because he’s slow at getting information out.

    “Loki!” Tanai jumps up. They’re all packed into the living room again, minus the bodyguards and Cordé, which means Gabriel is squished against the wall and Anna is looking around in confusion, and Padmé and Shmi are looking back with the exact same expression. “What on-”

    “Sorry, had to run!” Gabriel grins widely at her. Tanai looks surprised. He’s speaking Basic, right? Not Enochian or English? Yeah, he is. “Anna, this is my sister Tanai. Tanai, this is my sister Anna.”

    Anakin does a double-take. Tanai’s eyebrows shoot up, but she recovers fairly quickly and turns to Anna, extending a hand.

    “Well, nice to meet you then,” she says, also in Basic. Anna shakes her hand, looking at Gabriel.

How’d this happen? She asks, sounding amused - so she does know Basic, Gabriel hadn’t wanted to assume. He can’t help but bask a little in being able to talk to someone like this again, to be able to trust and open his mind and actually hear something.

    (He’d tried, once, in the desert. Silence. It unnerved him so much he’d tried to convince himself he’d never done it).

    Gabriel gives her the bare details, a faint impression of wind and sand and the cave and Tanai’s injury.

    “That’s certainly a fortunate coincidence,” Shmi says, barely containing her curiosity.

    “I know,” Gabriel says. “You’d almost think a higher power arranged it.”

    Anna doesn’t think it’s funny. Gabriel gets a snap of bitterness and then the connection fuzzes out, Anna withdrawing. Gabriel’s spent centuries keeping himself disconnected from it, but now he aches with the absence.

    He shouldn’t have referenced Dad.

    “It’s late,” he says cheerfully, slightly more forced than before, to cover the momentary but out of character gap in the conversation. Tanai doesn’t look fooled. Anna is looking at the floor, out the window - at anything but the other people. “Let’s reconvene in the morning, or something. It’s been a crazy day.”

    He gets a couple Looks™ that say the others can definitely tell something’s up, but people withdraw to their rooms until he and Anna are left alone.

I’m sorry, Gabriel says. Anna glances at him, then looks back at the floor and sits on the small, already worn sofa.

   If They arranged this,  Anna says, with the warm pulse of reconnection, He could’ve stood to do something about Michael and Lucifer instead. 

Aren’t you glad we ran into each other? Gabriel says pleadingly, sitting down next to her.

If this is Their priority- 

Don’t go down that path, Anna,  Gabriel says. Some things aren’t worth wasting your time thinking about. 

You said it. 

I know.  Gabriel thinks for a moment. You wanna try sleeping? 

Why? 

It’s fun if you get the hang of it. 

Maybe later,  Anna says, some amusement creeping back into her voice. Not around strangers. 

Okay. But where have you been? You have to tell me everything. 

You first. 

When morning comes, they’re still on the sofa, leaning against each other. Anna’s been silent most of the night, but Gabriel can tell she’s immediately alert when Tanai enters the kitchen. She doesn’t move an inch, though, which is nice because her head is resting on Gabriel’s shoulder and he’s silently reveling in that trust.

    “I would make tzai, but I don’t have the ingredients,” Tanai says, speaking Amatakka. “Seems like the time for it, though.”

    Gabriel smiles at her. “Nice of you to offer, anyway.” He replies in kind, even though Anna doesn’t speak it; she’ll pick it up fast enough, the way they work.

    “You never mentioned another sister,” Tanai says.

    “I didn’t know I had one here,” Gabriel replies. “My family situation is...complicated.”

    “Like your mother?” Gabriel had said very little on the subject of his Creator or the fictional Tatooinian mother who had ‘taught’ him Amatakka. He hadn’t tried to correct Tanai’s assumption that they didn’t have a good relationship.

    Next to him, Anna stiffens almost imperceptibly. Gabriel curls his hand around hers, stroking his thumb along the back of it.

    “It’s a long story,” he says, softly. “I...Anna hasn’t had as much time to deal with it as I have, I don’t think. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t...y’know, bring it up.”

    “I see.” Tanai pauses, then asks, “She’s your little sister?”

    “Almost all my siblings are younger than me.” Gabriel flashes a smile. “Fourth oldest, but I’ve got a _lot_ of them.”

    Tanai nods, surprise flitting across her face. Even though they spent that one night after Ekkreth visited sharing, this is the only time he’s mentioned _a_ sibling, much less that he had more than one.

    “We’ll _really_ need more space, then,” she says. “Padmé’s already sharing with Anakin and Kitser, and who knows how long she’ll need to stay.”

    “She’ll probably end up going back to the Senate,” Gabriel says. “Even if Cordé is publically the Senator, she’ll need to be there as an aide or people will wonder.”

    “She’s Naboo?” Anna asks, in English. Tanai starts; she probably thought Anna was still asleep. “They’re the ones with doubles, right?”

    “Yeah,” Gabriel says, also in English. “Ex-Queen, now Senator. Didn’t you ever watch the prequels?”

    “No, I heard they were shitty.”

    Gabriel shrugs. “Fair enough. I’m pretty sure I only ever watched the first one.”

    “ _Pretty_ sure?”

    They’re debating over the merits of the prequels versus the original trilogy by the time everyone else wakes up; people straggle into the room kitchen and leave as soon as they finish breakfast, to avoid crowding.

    “I’m going to the Senate with Padmé today,” Anakin says, rapid-fire Amatakka betraying his excitement. “She says if they can shelve the talk about the Military Act thing, I might be able to get a word in.”

    “Let’s hope you do,” Shmi says. Gabriel’s not sure any of them are very confident about Anakin’s chances, but if he _can_ get something done it’ll be a huge step forward. “The sooner anything happens, the sooner we can get back to Tatooine.”

    Anna’s migrated to the window, staring out at the bustle of Coruscant.

    “I’ll come with you,” she says. “I know where the Senate is, and I know this city.”

    Which of course means Gabriel’s coming, too.

    Going just about anywhere on Coruscant means passing the imposing Jedi temple, a blank white ziggurat-ish building that rises far above everything else.

The Sumerians did it better, Gabriel says to Anna, and a smile passes across her face.

  I liked the Mayan ones best,  she tells him. They way they kept building on top of them, making them better and bigger. Something new. 

The Senate building is a huge dome, a wide and gradually-curved mushroom head. Gabriel tries not to laugh, but not really. He gets dirty looks from the droid guards, as much as a droid can give someone a dirty look.

    They’re not allowed into the central chamber, except Anakin. They’d stopped at Padmé’s apartments on the way, so she’s in full Senatorial attire, complete with the bodyguards, and she politely yells the security detail into allowing her to bring Anakin in with her.

    Gabriel, Anna, and Shmi are left to linger outside.

    “This is gonna take forever,” Gabriel predicts in Basic, and turns to Anna. “You know any good places to eat nearby?”

    Anna raises her eyebrows. You don’t need to eat, she reminds him, while saying out loud, “I suppose there’s Dex’s, but I’ve only seen it.”

    “I’d rather stay,” Shmi says. “We hardly know when we’d need to come back.”

    “True,” Gabriel acknowledges. “Alright, food later.”

    They’re there for an hour with no sign of anything happening. Gabriel produces a pack of cards eventually, to stave off boredom. At the two and a half hour mark, a couple Jedi show up.

  What? Anna asks, when Gabriel’s attention perks up. Shmi looks up, too, because the Jedi aren’t exactly trying to be sneaky; they’re also arguing with the guards, who don’t seem to believe that they’re supposed to be there.

    “It’s those Jedi that were on Tatooine,” Gabriel says. “That one with the long hair, Jinn. And his apprentice or whatever, Kenobi.” Apparently Qui-Gon _doesn’t_ die halfway through episode one, or maybe something changed. There’s someone else with them who looks like Nick Fury, minus the eyepatch, but Gabriel doesn’t recognize him.

    Anna raises her eyebrows and gives Obi-Wan a searching look despite the distance separating them. He looks weird young, she notes.

    Just because you’ve only seen the original trilogy, Gabriel teases.

    “I wonder what they want here,” Shmi says, unaware of the side conversation. “I wouldn’t think the Jedi were involved in military business. Or Senate business. They’re supposed to be impartial, aren’t they?”

    “You never know,” Gabriel says. “The Senate’s corrupt, or so I hear. There’s no reason the Jedi couldn’t be, too.”

    That’s just about when the guy with horns and a double-ended lightsaber drops out of the ceiling.

    Shmi ducks into an alcove. Gabriel and Anna jump to their feet. The Jedi all ignite their sabers simultaneously, which is why it’s a real surprise when all the guy does is look up and then leap straight back up into the hole he’s left in the tile ceiling.

    The two groups are left staring at each other for only a second, because a saber blast hits the ground where the Sith was standing only a moment ago. Gabriel’s pretty sure he was a Sith, anyway, isn’t it illegal for Jedi to have red lightsabers or something?

    Gabriel looks up. Wesell is shooting from one of the balconies, face covered by a cloth mask that hides everything but her eyes.

   What the fuck, Anna says.

I don’t know, but that sniper tried to kill Padmé yesterday,  Gabriel says, in the time it takes for the Jedi to look up. I thought I took care of it, but obviously not. She’s got a friend. Damn, he hadn’t considered that Dooku could be on-planet. He’d assumed that it would take at least a day for them to get to the dude and another to get back for revenge and to finish the mission.

    One Jedi runs for the stairs (Gabriel takes a moment to appreciate his purple lightsaber) while Kenobi follows the Sith into the ceiling (bad move). Shmi slips inside the Senate chamber while the security droids are distracted. Two of them get taken out by neck shots, coming from a different direction than the first. Gabriel would bet the whole planet it’s Fett.

    Anna spreads her wings, angling for Wesell, but Gabriel stops her.

    “They’re going after the Sith, so are we,” he says. “Might as well collaborate briefly,”

    “We are?” Anna says.

    “Well, he’s the bad guy, I remember that much.” Two more droids fall. A blaster bolt hits the floor very, very close to them. “C’mon, let’s move.”

    They wait until the Sith comes out of the ceiling. Neither he or Obi-Wan have much space to maneuver in there, so it doesn’t take very long.

    The Sith immediately takes a swing at Anna, when he sees her. Gabriel shoves Obi-Wan back down with a “Sit this one out, kid,” and joins the fray.

    The other two Jedi arrive right after Anna blocks his lightsaber with her hand, just in time to see Gabriel gleefully throw him into the wall with only a gesture, quite obviously not using the Force to anybody who was trained to look.

    He hit the wall hard enough to make a dent, so Gabriel ignores him in favor of Anna, who’s holding her hand stiffly and frowning.

That was stupid, he says, but the burn’s already healing.

  I’d rather have this than be cut in half,  Anna retorts, which is fair enough, Gabriel supposes.

    Obi-Wan finally climbs out of the floor, and ducks almost immediately to avoid the Sith’s lightsaber. Qui-Gon jumps forward. So does purple-lightsaber-Nick-Fury. Anakin, of all people, comes crashing through the doors, completely unarmed.

    It’s a very confusing fight, in which the two assassins shoot at a lot of people but mostly the Sith until Anna confiscates their guns and knocks them out, but eventually Gabriel spots an opening and kicks the Sith in the head hard enough to knock him out.

    The Jedi stare, like they weren’t trying to do the exact same thing, basically.

    Gabriel and the others (minus Padmé, who is still talking to the Senate) are politely asked to stand before the Jedi Council - mostly Anakin and Gabriel, really, but it’s not like Shmi and Anna are just going to wait patiently while the two of them get interrogated by Jedi. So they all go. At the same time.

    The Council doesn’t seem to appreciate talking to more than one person at the same time, but they can suck it.

    “But you _didn’t_ use the Force,” says a frustrated Mace Windu, which is purple-lightsaber’s name. They’ve been stuck on this topic for a while now. Anna looks like she’s tuned out. Anakin rolls his eyes; he seems like he’s doing okay, even though a blaster shot glanced his arm and Gabriel’s absolutely going to heal that as soon as there’s time. Obi-Wan, lingering in the back with Qui-Gon, keeps shooting Anakin curious looks. Both of them are a little beat up, too, but everyone made it out without major injuries. Including Anna and him, who made it out without any.

    “No, which we’ve _already_ established,” Gabriel says. “Several times.”

    “But say how you did it, you will not,” Yoda - actual fuckin’ Yoda - says. He’s much smaller in person.

    “It’s a talent that’s common in my species.”

    “Say what your species is, you also will not.”

    “Why’s it your business?” Gabriel asks. “I’d think you’d be more worried about the Sith and the assassins. I mean, I’m flattered that I warrant a whole Council session to myself, but yikes.”

    “The Sith isn’t talking,” one of the more alien members says. Gabriel has no idea who or what he is. “The two shooters escaped in transit to a detention facility-”

    “Oh _come on,_ ” Gabriel protests.

    “How?” Anakin demands. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about things like this, when they attacked the Senate and a bunch of your own people? In fact-” He shoves his way in front of Gabriel, in the spotlight of the council’s attention. “-this kind of lax governing is why I came here in the first place! The state of the Republic’s presence in the Outer Rim-”

Gabriel steps back. If Anakin had low chances of convincing the Senate, he’s got nothing with the Jedi. Not even Yoda, probably.  

    It takes forty minutes (by Gabriel’s admittedly wonky internal clock) before the Jedi Council manage to get a word in between Anakin attempting to rip them open over not doing their job as the galaxy’s peacekeepers and also not doing anything about the Senate so blatantly misusing their powers and not doing their jobs properly. It’s very amusing.

    “Enough!” Windu gets in eventually. “I don’t know who you think you are, padawan-”

    “Padawan?” Anakin frowns, momentarily derailed. “I’m not a Jedi. And you can’t ignore-”

    “But your Force signature-”

    “What about it?”

    The entire Council stares. Gabriel laughs for so long internally that Anna tells him to be quiet because he’s distracting her.

    “Councillors, if I may,” Qui-Gon says, stepping forward. “This man is from Tatooine, in the Outer Rim. I encountered him several years ago while keeping Queen Amidala safe during the incident with the Trade Federation.”

    “Yes, Master Qui-Gon, we gathered where he was from,” one of the alien council members said dryly. “If you encountered this boy, why didn’t you bring him back?”

    “Hang on,” Anakin tries to protest.

    “I was forbidden from broaching the topic with him,” Qui-Gon says coolly, “by him.” He turns to Gabriel, quite dramatically.

    “And I stand by that decision,” Gabriel says, smiling at him. “You haven’t shown me anything that makes me regret it. He’s done fine on his own. If you want him now, talk to him and his mother.”

    There’s a lot of yelling until Anakin manages to be louder than the whole Council combined.

    “Why do you care?” Anakin demands. “You’re mad that you didn’t get to teach me yourselves? You’re derailing the conversation-”

    “Force-sensitive children _must_ be taught by Jedi masters,” one of them with a very tall head retorts.

    “Unsafe, it is,” Yoda says.

    “Well obviously _not,_ ” Anakin says, “since I _know_ how to use the Force just fine without ever having met any of you!”

    “Angry, you are,” Yoda observes. “Much you do not know. Emotional.”

    “Yeah, because apparently you’d all rather talk about a nineteen-year-old’s emotional state than the wellbeing of the people you’re supposed to protect,” Gabriel says. “But, y’know, to each their own.”

    “Don’t try to lecture us,” Windu snaps.

    “You’re the ones who _brought_ me here in the first place,” Gabriel replies. “And it’s real hypocritical of you to talk about Anakin being ‘emotional’ while _you’re_ all losing your minds because you didn’t get to teach him.”

    That makes them all shift uncomfortably, but at least they’re not yelling anymore.

    “Teach him, you did,” Yoda says, giving Gabriel an almost curious look. “But use the Force yourself, you do not.”

    “As I’ve mentioned, yeah,” Gabriel says. “Doesn’t take a Force-user to teach a kid how to use power responsibly. He’s a smart kid.”

    “It’s not about power alone,” Windu says, still sounding frustrated.

    Gabriel whistles. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sounded a little angry, councillor. How’s that little saying go? Anger leads to the dark side or something?”

    Windu glares at him. Yoda peers at Gabriel.

    “Leading to disharmony, the Council is,” he says. “Master Qui-Gon, talk to them yourself, you could.”

    “What?” Qui-Gon looks startled.

    “Reconvene later, we will,” Yoda says, and that seems to be the end of that.

    “I suppose there’s room in my apartments,” Qui-Gon says, as they’re unceremoniously escorted out of the Council rooms.

    “Nah,” Gabriel says. “Where’s the nearest restaurant with private rooms?”

    It turns out Coruscant has quite a lot of those.

    It’s a little awkward, the four of them packed in with two Jedi. Anna is jittery, even though she’s sitting at the edge of the booth, not sandwiched in between anyone. Gabriel doesn’t think it’s the crowded space - _everywhere_ in Coruscant is crowded. But he tries to send her soothing vibes, or whatever.

    “So why is it such a big deal that I wasn’t taught here?” Anakin asks. “I really am fine. I can control the Force and stuff.”

    “It isn’t just about power,” Qui-Gon says. “The reason Force-sensitive children are trained from such a young age is so they can grow up with the history of the Jedi. Unless you’re part of the Temple there’s no way to access those decades history or philosophy, much less the Code.”

    “The Code?”

    Qui-Gon recites it very seriously, right there in the booth.

    “That sounds stupid,” Anakin says. “You can’t just turn off your emotions. You teach this to children?”

    “It’s not turning them off,” Obi-Wan protests.

    “Ignoring them?” Gabriel suggests. “Refusing to acknowledge that feeling things is a legitimate thing that happens to most sentient species?”

    “The Jedi are impartial,” Qui-Gon says stiffly. “It would not do to allow emotions to get in the way of doing one’s job.”

    “Yeah, you’re doing really well at that second part,” Anakin mutters.

    “ _And,_ ” Qui-Gon continues, as if Anakin hasn’t spoken, “children without proper supervision are often in far greater danger of falling to the dark side.”

    “Excuse me?” Shmi says dangerously. “You think we haven’t given him _proper supervision?_ Just what exactly are you trying to say, because I think I’d rather you said it plainly!”

    Qui-Gon, wisely, immediately tries to backpedal. “Supervision from those versed in the Force and the Code, of course, to look out for signs of possible-”

    “Possible _what?_ ” Shmi demands. “Signs of a child turning to the dark side? Whatever the hell that is?”

    “Dark side is Sith,” Gabriel supplies. “Like mister red lightsaber.”

    Shmi turns a vaguely murderous look on Qui-Gon.

    “That is not what I meant,” Qui-Gon says quickly. “Of course a child would never turn fully to the dark side unless guided by outside forces, but-”

    “I’d stop while you’re ahead,” Gabriel advises. Shmi’s still glaring.

    “Living on the Outer Rim doesn’t mean I’m incapable of teaching a child basic morals,” she says frostily.

    “I wasn’t-”

    “Master, please,” mutters Obi-Wan, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “You’re not going to change their minds.”

    Qui-Gon gives Obi-Wan a frustrated look, but doesn’t try and finish his sentence.

    “Besides,” Obi-Wan says, turning to Anakin, “I don’t see why everyone’s causing such a fuss. It’s a shame you weren’t taught, but you’re over thirteen - they wouldn’t agree to teach you even if you wanted to.”

    Shmi looks at Gabriel like’s she’s trying to say _Can you fucking believe this._

    “Your Order sounds like a mess,” Anakin informs him.

    “It’s not that bad,” Obi-Wan protests. “I am sorry about the situation on your home planet. I didn’t know things were like that on Tatooine.”

    “No one in the Core does,” Anakin grumbles. “That’s the problem. I was at the Senate to try and talk to them about it, but I never got the chance.”

    “Really?” Obi-Wan looks taken aback. “How did you manage that?”

    “Oh, Padmé brought me with her, she said she might be able to arrange for me to speak.”

    “Senator Amidala?” Qui-Gon asks. “You know her?”

  Oh, practically Biblically,  Gabriel says to Anna, who has to quickly stifle a laugh. She mentally pokes Gabriel for laughing at her for faces she ends up making.

    “We’ve met,” Anakin says. “She was with you when you came to Tatooine, wasn’t she?”

    “Yes,” Obi-Wan says thoughtfully. “She was Queen then, though, not a Senator.”

    “Wait, what?” Anakin boggles. “I thought she was a handmaiden!”

    “Decoys, Anakin,” Gabriel says, trying not to laugh. Anakin slumps back in his seat, looking thoroughly astonished.

    “Queen,” he repeats. “But she’s only in her twenties now!”

    “She was a very popular queen, for a fourteen-year-old,” Qui-Gon volunteers. “I believe the Naboo were particularly enamoured of her, especially after she brought them safely out of that disaster with the Trade Federation. There was talk of changing their constitution so she could serve another term.”

    “As...queen?” Gabriel frowns.

    “They elect their monarchs, on Naboo,” Obi-Wan tells him.

    “Huh! How democratic.” That’s actually the most interesting news Gabriel’s heard since he got here. Democratically-elected Queens! What an idea. He should send the Naboo some congratulations.

    “You must still be new to Coruscant, though,” Obi-Wan says.

    “Well, sort of,” Anakin says. “It took a while to sort out seeing the Senate, since Padmé kept getting threatened.”

    “Nasty business,” Qui-Gon agrees. “I wonder who hired those assassins. I heard rumors that the two shooters at the Senate were there for her, but of course we can’t confirm that now.”

    Gabriel says nothing about Count Dooku. He manages to mostly stop himself from smiling (inappropriate timing) but Obi-Wan glances at him, frowning a little.

    When they eventually part ways, Anakin is in possession of a holocom number to call ‘just in case’, and Obi-Wan has theirs (Gabriel didn’t know they _owned_ a holocom). Kitser is practically bouncing off the walls, he’s so eager to hear what happened (“I’m never staying home _ever_ again.”). He seems to like Anna, too, but Gabriel can’t parse out her opinion of him.

    Anna drifts very easily. She flies off and Gabriel will find her three planets away, or darting invisibly around Coruscant’s air traffic. Gabriel usually trails along with her until she’s ready to go back.

    They’re out of the house a lot. Gabriel doubts anyone there minds, given the mild lack of space.

    Then again, one time they get back and everyone’s panicking over a message from Obi-Wan about a droid army on Geonosis.

    Gabriel and Anna take them straight there, just to see what’s going on.

    There _are_ an awful lot of droids, as it turns out. Anakin steals a blaster as soon as he can and starts picking them off.

    “Hold on,” Obi-Wan says, yelling over the sound of the droids firing back. “I don’t know how you got here so fast - but someone needs to take your ship and go to Kamino!”

    “Why?” Tanai yells back. It turns out her staff is very good at electrocuting droids that get too close, and the Geonosians too, if it’s wedged between their protective plating or exoskeletons in the right place.

    “There’s a clone army,” Obi-Wan says, and Gabriel’s blood freezes. Clones. That was important. That was the thing he hadn’t looked through his memories closely enough to remember. “On Kamino - they say a Jedi ordered them to be the Republic’s army, but Sifo-Dyas has been dead for years, he can’t have - and there’s thousands of them. Maybe millions.”

    Anakin nearly gets hit because he’s frozen in shock.

    “Where is this place?” Gabriel demands.

    “Beyond the Outer Rim, even the Rishi Maze - I don’t know how long it’ll take you to get there, but someone has to.”

    Gabriel turns around, but Anna is already gone.

    “Shit,” he says, but there’s still droids - and he can’t leave Tanai. He can’t. Anna will be fine. She was fine before they found each other, she’ll be fine now.

  Tell me if you need me,  he says to her. He gets no reply, but he’s a little busy to start worrying about it.

    The Geonosians have a lot of droids, but they’re not prepared for Gabriel. They have a couple very large creatures locked away for what looks like cage matches that they let loose, but Anakin and Obi-Wan immediately set upon them. Gabriel decides that they can probably handle it.

    There’s bits of droids everywhere and occasionally bits of Geonosian, from when they got in Obi-Wan’s way. Obi-Wan himself is yelling into a comm at the Jedi Temple, telling them to get there fast but he keeps getting derailed by someone else yelling back (what a surprise). Anakin’s sitting off to the side with Shmi, who had held the comms room admirably with Kitser’s help.

    Most of them are a little banged up, with the exception of Gabriel. Tanai’s nursing a bad blaster hit; Gabriel gently puts a hand on her shoulder, and the skin knits back together, smooth and uninjured.

    “Just like when we met,” she jokes, but sobers when she sees Gabriel’s expression. “What? Is it the Jedi?”

    “Anna,” he says, and Tanai’s face closes off a little. What? “Something’s wrong.”

    “Prophetic foreboding again?” Tanai asks.

    “Something like that.” Anna hasn’t said a single thing, not even to tell him she’s okay or that she doesn’t need help.

    “Well, go, then.”

    Kamino is not difficult to find. He’s looking for Anna, not the planet. He wonders how she found it, but she was on Coruscant for a while; maybe she knows where the Rishi Maze is, or maybe she’s been to this planet before.

    Gabriel lands in a hallway, just inside the ship landing pad (that’s what it looks like, at least). Everything’s pristine and white, and the ceiling is much taller than the average human needs.

    Gabriel doesn’t like it, and that’s before he finds the blood.

    It turns that Kaminoan blood is an odd sort of greenish color. Gabriel thinks the Kaminoans must have attacked, to protect their clones, when he starts seeing unnaturally tall alien bodies; but a little ways after that, there’s drops of human red.

  Oh, Anna. He’s not even sure if he’s saying it to her or just thinking. Either way, she doesn’t respond.

    There are no human bodies. There are plenty of humans that Gabriel can sense. Gabriel passes fetuses in creepy, artificial wombs that are more like bottles; hundreds of them suspend outside the kind of catwalk that has windows specifically to look at them. There are facilities down below, but they look disorderly, hastily abandoned. There are chairs tipped over, pieces of Stormtrooper-white armor scattered on the floor. Wherever the clones are, they’re hiding.

    He finds Anna in a blindingly white room. There’s a Kaminoan slumped over in his chair, eyes closed. She’s curled up, face pressed to her knees, hands curled in her hair like claws.

    Just opening the door makes her jerk. Gabriel has to bat away the power she flings at him.

    “Anna,” he says, and she lashes out at him again, fingers clawing deeper into her hair. Anna, it’s me!

Slightly desperate, Gabriel snaps his fingers. The lights in the room turn off. It’s dark and almost black without them, since this seems to be the one room in the whole place without any windows.

    Anna breathes in sharply, deeply.

Anna,  Gabriel tries again, but she still doesn’t say anything.

    He’d visited her, when she was human, scared and hearing voices. Once before that, too, passing by on the campus where she was on a college tour. Anna Milton liked - _likes_ \- photography and science in the way people who don’t want to be scientists like it, and entertained vague thoughts of becoming an astronomy major. She never wrote anything except essays, but poetry gave her the good kind of goosebumps.

Hey, Gabriel says softly, crouching down next to her. He can’t think of what to say, so he sings.

    At first it’s just humming, noise that isn’t even really noise vibrating along their shared headspace. When Anna seems to uncurl a little, relaxes, Gabriel finds the words in Enochian instead of English.

Oh raven, do lend me your eyes, and show me my fate, so I may survive.  That might not be the greatest choice. Gabriel switches tracks. Hey, brother, there’s an endless road to rediscover. Hey, sister, know the water’s sweet but blood is thicker. 

It’s too dark for any to human to see, but Gabriel can. Anna turns her head to the side to look at him. There’s something dark and frantic in her eyes.

  Oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you, there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do. Gabriel finishes the refrain. Anna’s a staticky presence on the other end of their connection, refusing to stay still, but she slows down a little, enough that Gabriel carefully reaches out and pulls her hands away from her head.

I forgot where I was,  Anna says. It looked like- 

You don’t have to tell me,  Gabriel says. It’s okay. He’s not sure how many Kaminoans are dead, but the clones seem mostly alright. There wasn’t that much red blood.

There’s something wrong with me, Anna says. She sounds scared.

No, there isn’t,  Gabriel says. You’re hurt. That’s different. 

They didn’t do anything,  Anna says. But the clones - they changed them to make them more obedient, made them grow up too fast so they could make more so they could go off and die for a Republic they’ve never seen- 

Sounds like they’ve done plenty, then,  Gabriel says. It’s not like the clones got a choice in this. Not from what he’s seen, or remembers.

    Anna doesn’t uncurl.

I didn’t mean to,  she says. I didn’t mean to hurt the clones, but they shot at me. 

It’s fine. I don’t think you hurt anyone very badly, Gabriel reassures her. Anna doesn’t look or feel convinced. She still feels like a mess of static, but it’s lessening, slowly.

I don’t like this place, she says.

Neither do I, Gabriel says. Neither of them say that it’s almost as blinding white as - well, not home, not anymore. Gabriel reaches out and kills the lights in the whole facility.

I changed them back,  Anna says.  I fixed what was done to them. It was in their genes, Gabriel. 

Is that why they shot? They were scared?  Gabriel reaches out and gently takes Anna’s hand. She doesn’t protest, and her fingers tighten around his almost painfully. You were scared, too. 

There was nothing to be scared of. 

That doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be. 

You’re looking at this like I’m a human, Anna says.

  Why shouldn’t I? You were. That gives a person habits, especially in the brain.  Gabriel stokes a thumb over the back of her hand. Especially when they’ve held as tight as you have to your soul. 

Anna presses a hand to her chest, fingers curling in and bunching up her shirt.

I thought I lost it, once,  she says. I thought they took it. 

  But they didn’t,  says Gabriel. What do you say we leave and go talk somewhere else? 

Anna nods, and uncurls, standing without even glancing at the dead Kaminoan.

    They spend a long time lurking in the depths of space. There’s not a lot in the Outer Rim, not even ships, just galaxies and stars in the distance. Almost everything in space is in the distance, unless you’re right next to whatever you’re looking at.

    When they go back to the apartment, there’s nobody there. Gabriel had made sure of it before they entered, but he reaches out again, wondering where they’ve all gone.

    They’re at the Jedi Temple, for some reason. Probably got dragged there to stand before the Council again. Gabriel tries to figure out how long he’s been gone. A day? Two? A week? How does Coruscant time even work? Surely it can’t have been that long, if they’re at the Temple presumably getting interrogated about what happened.

    Gabriel makes a third room in the apartment, through some severe disregard for the laws of space and physics in general, and lets Anna have it to herself. She bangs around in there for a little, probably redecorating, and then goes quiet.

    Gabriel sets up watch in the living room and waits.

    He senses them coming from blocks away - he would’ve noticed sooner, but Coruscant’s just so full of people that it’s harder to tell. Gabriel counts absentmindedly - Tanai, Shmi, Kitser, Anakin, Obi-Wan even. Only Padmé’s missing, probably because there won’t be space for her. Gabriel keeps his spot on the sofa, staring at the opposite wall.

    The door opens. The conversation among them falters.

    “You!” Obi-Wan says. “What the hell did you do?”

    Gabriel glances over at them. Obi-Wan had opened the door and appears to be frozen in place, keeping the rest of them outside.

    “Do what?” Gabriel asks.

    “Don’t play dumb,” Obi-Wan snaps. Someone shoves him further inside, and they all pile in. Shmi locks the door behind them. “What happened on Kamino?”

    “The investigative forces ‘round here must _really_ be lacking if you couldn’t figure that out by now,” Gabriel says languidly, chin propped in his hand. Obi-Wan alone looks really furious. The Tatooinians in the room are just watching, though Shmi’s thin-lipped and frustrated in a tangible way. Gabriel doesn’t think it’s at him.

    “The clones aren’t talking,” Anakin volunteers. “They barricaded themselves in and only let anyone go in to take away the dead Kaminoans. They’re refusing to fight.”

    “Good for them,” Gabriel says.

    “And the Kaminoans?” Obi-Wan demands. “What did you do?”

    “You’re smart,” Gabriel says, in what he privately thinks of as his ‘Trickster’ voice. “What do you think I did?”

    Obi-Wan’s jaw clenches. “You and that girl need to come before the Council, immediately,” he says.

    “Anna has nothing to do with this.” Gabriel stands up. He’s only _just barely_ taller than Obi-Wan, but he manages to loom anyway. Obi-Wan doesn’t give him the pleasure of leaning away from him. “And what’s the Council going to do? Yell at me? Tell me off while they sit on the knowledge that they intended to use a clone army that was never given a choice about whether or not they wanted to fight?”

    “The Jedi didn’t order that army,” Obi-Wan bites out.

    “Would that have stopped them from using it?” Gabriel leans closer. “Be honest, now. That was another army on Geonosis. Someone was planning to use it. Someone also created an army for the Republic. If those droids were still active, _would the Republic have taken the clones?_ ”

    Obi-Wan swallows.

    “Maybe they still want that army,” Gabriel murmurs. “That someone who made both is still out there. Maybe they’d like a nice, well-brainwashed - oh, sorry, _trained -_ army to track those people down for them, and maybe they’d keep them around, just in case it happened again.”

    “That doesn’t mean you get to kill the Kaminoans and get away with it,” Obi-Wan hisses.

    “The Kaminoans were slavers who were so desperate to subjugate _someone_ they grew their own slaves,” Gabriel retorted, sharp as a knife. Obi-Wan’s eyes flick to Anakin and the others, widening slightly in realization. _Now,_ he understands. “I don’t care if someone _asked_ them to do it. They genetically manipulated millions because someone paid them to, genetically altered them and never gave them a choice in their life. Did you notice the babies?” He’s viciously pleased to see Obi-Wan wince, a tiny bit. “Do you think they deserved justice for that?”

    “They are living, sentient beings,” Obi-Wan says, practically vibrating with fury. “They deserved to be brought _to_ justice _._ That was _not_ your decision!”

    “And your Council would have done that?”

    “The Senate would-”

    Gabriel tilts his head back and laughs, short and sharp. “The _Senate?_ I believe we’ve already proved the Senate doesn’t care about slaves! What was that thing Padmé was talking about - the Military Creation Act? You know, the one that authorizes them to have huge standing armies? A little too much of a coincidence, don’t’cha think.”

    Obi-Wan falters.

    “That’s still not your decision to make,” he says. “You don’t get to decide that they deserved death.”

    “Too late.”

    “You can’t do that!”

    “Who’s going to stop me?” Gabriel demands, leaning into Obi-Wan’s space again. “ _You?_ ”

    “If I have to.”

    Gabriel smiles. It’s more than a baring of teeth. He’s laughing at Obi-Wan’s presumption, and he wants him to know it.

    “You can try,” he says. “Go home, boy. You’re out of your league.”

    Obi-Wan opens his mouth, but Anakin interrupts.

    “Don’t, Obi-Wan,” he says. “Not now. It’s not gonna go anywhere.”

    Obi-Wan gives him an almost furious look. He turns on his heel and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

    “Loki,” Tanai says softly.

    “I’m not interested in being lectured more tonight,” Gabriel mutters, flopping back down onto the sofa.

    “I’m not interested in lecturing.” Tanai sits down next to him.

    “Why?” Shmi asks.

    “Why do you _think_?” Gabriel scoffs.

    “I don’t know. You’re the kind to have more than one motive.”

    Gabriel shrugs. “Not today.”

    Shmi lingers, like she’d like to say more, but whatever’s on her mind she doesn’t voice. Anakin and Kitser edge out of the room, and eventually she follows them. Tanai just sits there like she’s waiting for Gabriel to say something.

    “Is this how it’s going to be?” She asks.

    “How what’s going to be? Our time on Coruscant? It does seem to be rather rife with danger.”

    “You and Anna,” Tanai says. “I’m not stupid. She left first.”

    Gabriel does not look at her. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

    “If it _was_ you, you did it very quickly,” Tanai says. She pauses, and then asks, “Is it because she’s your real sister?”

    “Why the fu - I don’t think that!” Gabriel twists to face her. Tanai looks like she’s very determinedly staying calm.

    “She shows up, and suddenly you have no time for the rest of us?” Tanai asks.

    “That’s not-” Gabriel falters. He has been spending a lot of time with Anna - but he’s had _nineteen years_ with Tanai and like, a _week_ with Anna!

    “You didn’t grow up on Tatooine,” Tanai says, when he doesn’t finish. “I’m not going to blame you for thinking that. But don’t try tell me I’m imagining things or anything like that. She showed up and you connected with her like she’d been here the whole time.”

    “My species is telepathic,” Gabriel says. “It’s not personal, it’s just more automatic and less hassle than talking out loud.”

    Tanai actually looks surprised by that. Gabriel plows on. “I _didn’t know she was here._ I didn’t know _any_ of my siblings were here. I _ran away,_ I thought - the fact that Anna’s _here_ and actually acknowledging me as family and willingly interacting with me is something I thought I gave up a _long_ time ago. It’s not-” He gestures vaguely at his head. “-quiet up here, anymore.”

    Tanai looks down at her lap. “I guess you expect an apology.”

    “What? Of course not,” Gabriel says. “You’re my sister too. I should’ve made time for both of you. Anna’s just...been through a lot. I wanted to be there for her. I’ve been with you for ages, Tanai, I didn’t think you’d take it this way.”

    Tanai leans against the back of the sofa. She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then, “Telepathic? Really?”

    “Sometimes I accidentally start sharing my entire train of thought and she has to yell at me to shut up,” Gabriel says.

    Tanai snorts. “That sounds like you.” She sits up a little straighter. “When you say she’s ‘been through a lot’...?”

    “I have my suspicions,” Gabriel says, a little more serious. “Anna’s...a lot like me. And I told you why _I_ never tried to go back to them.”

    Tanai looks at him sharply, surprised. “You think your other siblings did something?”

    “I don’t know,” Gabriel says. “I haven’t asked and I don’t plan to. I wish I could say there’s no way they could’ve.” It’s his turn to slump back, now. “Anna’s one of the only non-jerk family members I have, and at the moment the other members of that group are you, the guys back on Tatooine, and one other who I haven’t spoken to properly in ages.” Not like Castiel could find him here, anyway.

    “One other?”

    Gabriel waved her question away. “Not much of a chance of him showing up.”

    “Would you have said that about Anna, before you found her?”

    Gabriel smiles wryly. “It’s nice of you, but there really isn’t.” It really, really isn’t likely.

    In the morning, no one brings up Obi-Wan or Kamino, and Anakin says, “I don’t think this will work. I want to go home.”

    Gabriel puts a little extra money down on the last bit of rent (it’s not his, but it’s not meant to stay his, so whatever). They retrace their steps back through Coruscant, to the spaceport, onto the shuttle; now plus one more person. Something in all of them but Anna relaxes a little when Tatooine looms, orange and sandy as ever, in the windows.

    Everyone’s still there. Suna and Kinla, Taalo and Nevu, Tena and Siha and Reja. Nothing’s been catastrophically destroyed and they haven’t been in any more danger than is normal for a pivotal group of people working on the freedom trail. The wards are still there, untouched.

    Anna seems entirely bewildered at how they bring her seamlessly into the group with only a few questions (mostly “I didn’t know you had another sister, where’s she from?” which was easily satisfied by saying he’d found her on Coruscant). Gabriel knows the feeling. It’s a little disorienting, to establish the faintest link of a relationship to one person and then find yourself a member of a whole group.

Also, the entire planet is a desert, which is very, very different from both Coruscant and Earth.

“It reminds me of Sumer,” Anna says. Their house is backed up against/built into a rock face that extends up to a huge height, and they’re perched at the very top. “All the sand. And the emptiness.”

“The Tuskens are out there, somewhere,” Gabriel remarks. “Never met them. Local attitude towards them seemed to be...mixed.”

    “What a surprise.” Anna glanced at him. “What do you think of?”

    “At this point it reminds me of Tatooine,” Gabriel says. “But yeah, I thought of Sumer. Not much chance of running into Abraham out here, though. They’ve got other gods.”

    “You’ve run into _them_?” Anna raises her eyebrows.

    “C’mon, I told you what I was doing all those centuries. Gods know how to recognize one other. Even when the other is from a different universe,” Gabriel allowed. “Ekkreth’s not so bad. He’s the local trickster.” He pauses, and then, “Anakin’s a favorite of his mother’s.”

    Anna frowns. “Shmi, or...?”

    “Ekkreth’s mother. Well, they call her Ar-Amu, so she’s like... _everyone’s_ mother, indirectly.”

    “Huh,” Anna says. They’ve both got plenty of experience with prophets and chosen ones. Gabriel’s not surprised by the low-key reaction. “Does he know?”

    “His mother does, probably. I dunno what she’s said to him about it, if anything.”

    “Seems like something someone should tell him about,” Anna says. Gabriel thinks about the meaning of Anakin’s name.

    “Nah,” he says, “it’ll pan out eventually. I’m a god, I know these things.”

    “Careful, Gabriel,” Anna says. “That’s blasphemy, you know.”

    They both last about .03 seconds before bursting into laughter.

    “Don’t just _say_ things like that,” Gabriel gasps. “Holy shit, _blasphemy._ Oh, oh no, I did it again, Anna, help.”

    Anna’s too busy cracking up. “Imagine,” she wheezes, “Imagine if Castiel’d heard that - his _face._ ”

    Personally, just about any angel overhearing that joke would make a hilarious face. Michael might run the risk of getting a little bit smitey, but Michael wasn’t here now, was he.

    “D’you - d’you think he’d do that little squint,” Gabriel says, simultaneously giving Anna a mental picture of it, “you know - where you know he’s like, _just_ on the verge of getting it-”

    Anna deepens her voice to imitate Castiel without perfectly mimicking him. “I don’t understand, blasphemy is a serious issue-” She doesn’t make it past ‘understand’ before she starts laughing again, too hard to be understood.

Gabriel catches her before she falls off the lip of the rock face; she’s laughing so hard she’s bent double and leaning a little too far forward. He flops backwards, still giggling.

“If they could see us now,” Anna says, once they’ve both calmed down a little, and she sounds smug about it.

    “Hell yeah,” Gabriel says, getting the message behind it. He raises his fist. Anna bumps it with her own obligingly.

    “Hey, Loki?” Someone shouts from down below. Gabriel hauls himself upright and spreads his wings. Anna’s only a hairsbreadth behind, time- _and_ space-wise, and the sand poofs up around their feet when they land.

    Suna barely blinks. “Have you seen Anakin?” She asks. “He’s not back from Mos Eisley yet.”

    “When did he leave?”

    “Hours ago.”

    Suspicious. Gabriel squints at the horizon.

    “Is that just me,” he says after a moment, “or does that look like the beginnings of a sandstorm to you?”

    It’s not just him.

    Anakin is not home by the time the sandstorm hits their house. Anna wants to go out looking for him, but Gabriel has a Feeling™ about this storm that he usually only gets around Ekkreth.

    There’s something different about this storm. Something that tells Gabriel that it’s more than just unexpected weather. Anakin may be out in it, but maybe he’s meant to be.

They both stay inside, with everyone else. There’s nothing the rest of them can do about it, but no one seems comfortable with that. They’re all crowded in the main room. Kinla tries to fix a tiny machine that’s supposed to work in conjunction with the holocom and make it harder to trace so they can contact people, but she lets it fall to the side without doing much. Tena keeps fiddling with the ends of her lekku, like someone twisting their hair. Suna and Tanai sit near Gabriel with their heads bent close together, trying to figure out a way to know where Anakin is. They don’t get anywhere.

Kitser stays near the door, sitting on the floor, a tiny japor charm in his hands that Gabriel suspects Anakin made for him.

    When Taalo opens the door once they’re sure the sandstorm has passed, a bunch of sand spills inside. They spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning off the various, slightly treacherous paths that lead to their door.

A freedom trail can’t have its roads blocked. Also, they need to be able to get out.

    Anakin shows up at sunset. A little pale, a little sandier than usual. Shmi, who’s been keeping watch by the doors, jumps up and hugs him tight.

    “The sandstorm-” Anakin begins.

    “It’s fine,” Shmi says. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

    “No, mom-” Anakin glanced around, taking in all the anxious faces of people who had been hovering nervously, waiting for him to come home. “Something happened.”

    If ‘something’ was named Ar-Amu, she certainly had, in much the same way she’d ‘happened’ to Shmi.

    Ar-Amu came to Anakin in the desert, and gave him a mission. Gabriel got there first, maybe, but he hasn’t freed _everyone_ on Tatooine; not even close. Maybe this is why. It was never his purpose.

Siha shakes his head in disbelief and sits down, practically thunderstruck, not even a minute into Anakin’s explanation. Only Shmi isn’t surprised, and Tanai doesn’t seem like she is either. Most of them receive the news of Ar-Amu’s new message well; it’s only when Shmi reveals the visions she’d had, just before getting pregnant with Anakin, that even Tanai sits down for a minute to process it.

Are you getting Moses vibes or is that just me?  Gabriel asks Anna. Maybe it’s the desert. 

It’s not you,  Anna replies. You never mentioned this before? 

I did, like five hours ago, remember? Besides, no one else here knows who Moses is. 

Gabriel goes to Anakin, when most people have gone to bed but it becomes apparent that he’s not going to.

    “You weren’t surprised,” Anakin says. “Why not?”

    “‘Cause I kinda noticed that you were a powerful kid,” Gabriel says. “You may not _use_ the Force that much, but you’ve _got_ it, and a lot of it. Stands to reason there’s a reason for that.”

    Anakin turns to look at him.

    “I’m just realizing how strange you are,” he says. “How did you know it was the Force?”

    “What else would it have been? You were moving stuff without touching it.”

    “It could have been magic,” Anakin says. “You’re from Tatooine. Why the Force and not...assuming I’d been blessed?”

    “I’m _not_ from Tatooine,” Gabriel laughs, and Anakin actually looks startled. “I mean, I am now, but not originally. Is that what you’ve always thought? I was only here for a few years before you were born.”

    Anakin opens his mouth and closes it. He looks at Gabriel very closely, like that will reveal whatever answers he’s looking for.

    “What?” Gabriel asks. “Did She say something about me?” He’s joking, not expecting Anakin to say,

    “I don’t know.”

    Gabriel pauses. “As in there was something you didn’t catch, or...?”

    “I don’t know who she was talking about,” Anakin says, “but I might have an idea.”

    “...What exactly did she say?”

    Anakin looks at him for a long, long time.

    “Have you done this before?” He asks. Gabriel thinks of what he’d told Anna, of Ekkreth sitting somewhere eavesdropping with a grin.

    “Maybe,” Gabriel says. “You remind me of a guy I knew a long time ago.”

    “But I’m not anyone special,” Anakin says. “I’m not a prophet, or - I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

    “Who does?” Gabriel didn’t say prophet, but he wonders at Anakin’s word choice. “Doesn’t mean you can’t do whatever’s been asked of you.”

    “The man I remind you of,” Anakin asks, sounding almost desperate. “What did he do?”

    “This isn’t the same situation,” Gabriel says. “You can’t copy him. This is a personal thing, Anakin. Some things you need to struggle through on your own.”

    “You’re being purposefully unhelpful,” Anakin accuses.

    “I’m a professional at that,” Gabriel says with a grin, even though the lights are off for some reason (Anakin’s going through a phase, maybe) and the only light is the moonlight coming through the open door. “This isn’t my planet, Anakin. These aren’t my gods. I’m the last person you should be asking.”

    “But you’ve _done this before._ ”

    “I watched,” Gabriel says. “Why d’you think I was so proactive about it this time?”

    Anakin looks taken aback, and for a moment, furious. “ _Watched?_ Why?”

    “Because my brother forbade us from doing anything else.”

    “What for? Didn’t he know?”

    “He did,” Gabriel says. “He said it wasn’t our purpose. That our Father had given that man a purpose, and it wasn’t our job to do it for him. That we shouldn’t interfere in human affairs.”

    When Anakin says nothing, he says, “Really, I always thought of my Father as more of a mother, but you can’t change how humans’ll conceptualize and gender these things. But hey, in terms of Mothers, you’re already doing better than me.”

    “Are you talking about Mom,” Anakin asks slowly, “Or Ar-Amu?”

    “Both.”

    “Did you listen to your brother, when he told you not to interfere?”

    “Yes.”

    “Why?”

    “Because I was afraid,” Gabriel admits. “That he might be telling the truth when he said our Father didn’t want us to, and of what he might do if I didn’t.”

    Anakin is silent for a fair amount of time after that.

    He opens his mouth to speak, but Gabriel isn’t paying attention. There’s a familiar presence approaching; someone he’s only met before on Tatooine.

    Anakin notices, looks in the same direction; but to him, it’s just the door, sand and rock outside.

    “What?” He asks.

    “Nothing,” Gabriel says. Then - “If you want answers, you’d have better luck outside.”

    “What?” Anakin repeats, bewildered. He glances between Gabriel and the door. “Just go outside and hope a sandstorm hits?”

    “Not a sandstorm,” Gabriel says. He takes a few steps backwards; if he doesn’t at least pretend to go to bed, Tanai will start wondering where he is. “Good luck, Skywalker,” he says, giving Anakin a two-fingered salute.

    Anakin will figure it out. Gabriel trusts the kid. Besides, he’s got all of them behind him. Gabriel’s not going to chance it by asking what could go wrong, but he can’t help but think that everything should turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of the prequels! I feel like some of it may be a little rushed, but whatever. It's not meant to be a comprehensive tale, just a story; and this is a good ending point.
> 
> The clones probably did alright for themselves. There's a lot of them, after all, enough to convince everybody else to leave them the fuck alone. Whatever they do next, regardless, is their choice.
> 
> If you like, imagine that most of these people - Tanai, Shmi, all the others - ended up meeting anyway at various points on the Freedom Trail. Tanai, even without Gabriel, would have made her way out of that cave for sure. Imagine what she'd have done. Imagine the kind of figure she might have become. 
> 
> Or maybe wonder whether Anakin ended up succeeding at his quest or not. If you are at all familiar with the story of Moses, I think you can guess.
> 
> Comment, please!


	4. Original Trilogy pt1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO GUYS HEY IT'S BEEN A WHILE! IT'S OKAY THO THIS CHAPTER IS WAY LONGER THAN THE LAST ONE. LIKE, EIGHT PAGES LONGER. IDK HOW MANY WORDS THAT IS
> 
> so anyway have a chapter
> 
> I have one thing to say though - originally there was gonna be WAY MORE Alderaanian mythology in this chapter, but I ended up getting only a little. We'll see how the rest of it pans out. If you want to know more about the Alderaanian pantheon I spent way too much time making up, take a look at [this Google doc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12IoUDkvMC5Xsqu4t7yj1yqJRCqmjCyqYaGMoMsg2V4A/edit?usp=sharing)!
> 
> Edit: There is now art of the characters included in this chapter! Have fun with that.
> 
> I have nothing else to say, so. Go nuts. Have fun.

    Gabriel does not land on Alderaan, originally.

    He’s a little bit distracted when he’s travelling, okay, there are more important things on his mind than where he’s going. He just aims for somewhere crowded, somewhere no one’s going to notice one more guy staggering around, somewhere his arrival can go unnoticed.

    The streets he lands on are choked with cars and people and railway lines, crammed with electric signs and flickering lights and rushing letters that start to make sense as soon as he looks at them, only to be gone the next second.

    The air looks clean, but Gabriel feels like he’s inhaling smoke from a fire.

    He can’t stay here.

    He staggers through space, lands on the first planet he can be sure he won’t crash into. He lurks invisibly at the edges for a while, trying to heal, maybe steals a few things to keep himself going (alright, the food isn’t actually _necessary_ , but wherever he is has a few homeless shelters or something of the sort and they don’t question it when he takes a little and enjoys the sensation of eating something warm).

    They have temples, too, which is unsurprising. A space-age civilization of steel and chrome and they’ve still got gods. And nature, too, Gabriel’s a little worried about that one sometimes.

    The one Gabriel finds first is to someone called Torhu. It’s not his style to go for the destroyers, so he skips that one. The second one is enough like a synagogue that it reminds him of home, and he hurriedly goes the other way. The third one, a while later and in the middle of a forest, is echoing and empty, the stone faded and overgrown. There’s a tiny, flickering light inside.

    He goes in.

    It’s a solitary lantern providing the light; someone’s left it there, on a very dusty altar that’s the only thing still standing. There are a few collapsed benches, thick with cobwebs, but any other furniture is long gone or dust.

    The temple is made out of an odd kind of stone that vibrates with every step he takes. The windows don’t have panes, just bits carved so thin they let in a little light. It’s impressive, really, but this is the first place Gabriel’s seen it. Everywhere else has glass.

    Maybe it’s an old-fashioned style.

    The lantern is tiny, and shines with an orange-ish light that’s a little too neon to look like a candle, even though it flickers like the battery is about to die. Also, there’s a small human hiding behind the altar, but no fellow human would be able to notice that, so Gabriel decides not to say anything outright.

    He sits down on the floor, because there’s nothing else to sit on. He leans up against the altar, and thinks. The child-size human is on the other side, probably hiding underneath it. Why would a kid be hiding in an ancient, unused temple in the middle of the forest?

    Gabriel starts humming.

    He picks a bright, cheerful song. The child sitting underneath the altar doesn’t react until he starts splitting his voice to do all the harmony parts, which is quite outside the range of normal human ability. The stone that the temple is built out of hums along with him, picking up the simple vibration of sound and spreading it.

    The kid shuffles around, and moves like they’re about to peek around the side of the altar. Gabriel keeps humming, trying to keep track of the different, simultaneous notes. Harmonies are so difficult when he’s doing everything himself.  

    “How are you doing that?”

    Gabriel glances over. The child is small, maybe eleven-ish, with tangled hair and what looks like simple clothing, barely any stitching but the hems. Luckily, he’s been on Alderaan long enough to pick up the language.

    “I’m just singing,” he says, in Alda. It’s a very nice-sounding language, he’ll give them that.

    “Do you have it recorded?”

    “No, it’s just me.”

    The child looks at him suspiciously. “It sounded like more than one person.”

    Gabriel hums a single note, and once the stone of the temple’s picked it up, adds a second part, making the kid go wide-eyed.

    “ _How_ are you doing that?”

    “It’s a special talent,” Gabriel says. “I don’t do it much, but I thought I was alone in here.”

    The kid shifts, and scoots a little further out from behind the altar. The clothing is revealed to be a dress that’s a little ripped and muddy at the hem, which is easily long enough to drag on the ground. It looks like it’s too long for her child legs. It looks a little too big for her, period.

    “I wasn’t spying,” the kid says. “I was here first.”

    “Is that your lantern, then?” Gabriel points over his shoulder. She nods, shortly, uncertainly. “You mind telling me what this place is?”

    “You don’t know?”

    “I’m new here.” He doesn’t specify where ‘here’ is.

    “It’s Mehe’s temple,” the kid says. “The original one.”

    “Mehe, huh?” Gabriel has no idea who that is. “D’you have a name, too?”

    She looks at him suspiciously again. What a paranoid kid. “Do _you?_ ”

    “I do, it’s Gabriel,” he says, because it’s the one he’s used most recently. The kid frowns. To be fair, it’s not a very Alderaanian-sounding name. “It’s only fair that you should tell me yours, right?”

    She bites her lip and looks at the lantern, briefly.

    “Emi,” she says.

    “Nice to meet you, Emi,” Gabriel says, offering his hand. She looks startled, but she takes it to shake, so it’s not confusion over that. Shaking hands must be a universal thing. “Mind if I ask how you ended up here?”

    Emi shrugs. Which is fair, considering it would be difficult for Gabriel to explain how _he_ got there, so he’d also rather she didn’t ask.

    “I hafta go,” Emi says, glancing up at the stone window. She stands up, her hem dragging on the ground. “I’m not supposed to be out late.”

    Outside, the sun’s just barely dipping down. Either she’s uncomfortable, or playing it safe, or lives a long way away.

    “Okay,” Gabriel says. “See ya.”

    Emi backs out of the temple and doesn’t turn around until she’s nearly disappeared behind a thicket of trees outside.

    Again, how paranoid.

    Gabriel remains in the temple, because he likes it and he has nowhere else to go. He knows vaguely where he is (he’s heard the name ‘Alderaan’ before, at home) but only vaguely, as in on a more universal and not planetary scale.

    Oh, well. What’s the worst that could happen?

    Aside from the occasional feeling of being watched.

    Gabriel is absolutely sure he’s not alone in the temple, but aside from the creepy wolf carvings on that one wall he’d dusted off, there’s nothing that could be watching him. It’s probably just whatsisface - Mehe? - wondering who the fuck is in his temple. He can deal with that.

    The forest he’s found himself in crawls up the side of a mountain, which seems to be very common on Alderaan. The mountains, not the forest - although maybe the forest too, if there are so many mountains. Gabriel’s impressed that their environment is in such good shape, given the space-age technology he’s seen. He’s always been a little worried about that, back home, but they seem to have managed well here.

    He goes walking around in the forest during the day, usually, but sometimes at night, because Alderaan’s days are a little shorter than he’s used to. Or maybe he’s just bad at time. Maybe it’s both. Who knows. The forest around the temple sprawls out to distances unknown.

    Gabriel doesn’t know why he feels the urge to stay here. It’s tickling at the edge of his foreknowledge, time spooling out around him, but he doesn’t look. He doesn’t want to know. He’s tried that already, and last time it didn’t work too well for him.

    The temple itself is in pretty good shape, aside from being overgrown and everything inside too old to use. Gabriel can get upstairs easily, because any stairs are carved out of what feels like solid rock, or whatever weird stone they used to build this place. There’s a small second floor, and a tower on one corner that goes up and up.

    When this place was built, it must have just poked over the tops of the trees. Now the windows in there offer a good view of tree trunks and light filtering through the canopy.

    Gabriel calls dibs on the small room at the top of the tower, even though there’s no one else to share it with.

    Emi’s lantern stays on the altar, where she’d forgotten it or purposefully left it. Gabriel had turned it off, to save the battery. When he sees a flickering light downstairs, he goes to investigate.

    Emi jumps when he (purposefully) steps on a broken piece of wood, cracking it and announcing his presence. The lantern is on, and she’s holding a small black thing in her hand. Whatever it is, it’s probably the reason the lantern is no longer flickering.

    “You’re still here,” she says.

    “And you came back,” he replies.

    “I thought you’d left,” Emi says warily.

    Gabriel shrugs. “I got nowhere else to be.”

    Emi looks at him, wide-eyed and curious, some of her wariness vanishing.

    “I think Mehe would be okay with you staying,” she says.

    “Well, I’ll be sure to tell him I appreciate it.”

    Emi doesn’t stay very long this time, either, but she seems to be markedly more comfortable around him. She dusts off some of the carvings on the walls and spends a lot of time looking at them, only occasionally glancing behind her as if to make sure Gabriel’s still where he was. She doesn’t talk much. When she leaves, it’s just barely dark out, and she casts a regretful glance at the lantern.

    “I’ll make sure it’s still here when you come back,” Gabriel promises.

    Emi does come back, repeatedly. Gabriel gleans tiny bits of information over several weeks of sporadic, unpredictably visits. She’s ten (by Alderaan’s calendar, presumably). She visits the temple whenever she’s in the area. She moves around constantly (maybe her family is part of some nomadic group?), so that isn’t often.

    In return, Gabriel offers little things. He tells her his name, for one. He says he’s from far away and new to Alderaan. He says the people here have been very nice but he hasn’t found anywhere he wants to live yet. No, he doesn’t know anyone here who would help him. No, he doesn’t have any family he can ask for help. No, he’s not upset she asked, it’s just a very complicated situation.

     “I like being here in the summer,” Emi says. “Elina’s in the sky and it makes Mehe happier, so it’s nicer here.”

    “Elina?” Gabriel asks. Emi is appalled that he doesn’t know the story of Elina, so she tells him.

_Once upon a time, Melakani had a daughter with a human man-_

“Who’s Melakani?”

    Emi stares. “She _made humans._ ”

    “Ah,” Gabriel says. “Okay, keep going, I’m curious about this Elina.”

    _Elina was her daughter, and her father raised her to be a priestess, because she was perfectly suited for the role. But Elina decided that she didn’t want to be a priestess, or dedicate her life to studying, and so when she was fourteen she ran away into the mountain forests._

_Melakani visited her there, to give her blessing and protection in the form of a magical spear which Elina always carried. She lived in the forest for a really long time on her own, but eventually she came back so she could share all the things she’d learned, and teach Alderaan how to live in better harmony with Nature._

“And where does Mehe come into it?”

    “He _is_ the forest,” Emi says. “Duh. Elina met him when she was in the wilderness.”

    Gabriel glances out the door. It’s too light for there to be any constellations yet, but the trees are very clear. “Literally the forest?”

    “Sometimes? Maybe he’s just one of the trees? I don’t really know,” she admits, looking down. “It’s not in my school work.”

    “Why not?”

    “I hafta use the online stuff,” she says. “Since we move around a lot. We all share a tablet and do lessons and stuff. It’s all Imperial standard and there’s not a lot about Alderaan specifically. And - we’re never anywhere long enough for me to hear the whole story of anything.”

    Imperial standard, huh. So the Empire’s already around. What fun.

    “Too bad,” Gabriel says. “So how come this lady’s a constellation?”

    “She died,” Emi says. “She was killed by one of those.” She points at the temple wall across from her. Gabriel turns around.

    In one of the murals, there’s a humanoid figure, holding a tall spear. Cringing away from the brandished weapon are three wolfish shapes, huge and hulking with spikes on their backs.

    “ _Kinkala,_ ” Emi whispers, like saying it too loud will summon one. “Melakani put her in the stars after she died for - so people would remember her.”

    Gabriel turns back around. “And for what?”

    Emi bites her lip.

    “I always thought it was for revenge,” she says. “Putting her in the night sky. Because the night is Avur, and the kinkala work for him.”

    “That’s very clever,” Gabriel says. Emi looks startled.

    “Really?”

    “Sure. I don’t see why that couldn’t be the reason,” Gabriel says. “There were plenty of constellations back ho - back where I come from, but no one ever put them up for revenge. It’s very passive-aggressive. I like it.”

    “What kind of constellations?” Emi asks.

    Gabriel gets through the story of Cassandra and half of Artemis and Orion before the sky outside darkens a tint too far, and Emi darts off to wherever her house or caravan full of family is waiting.

    She comes again the next night, which is a surprise; usually she never shows up more frequently than every few days.

    “You’re still here,” she says, looking absurdly relieved to see him despite the fact that he’s consistently been there for weeks.

    “Yup.” Gabriel eyes the darkening sky. “Didn’t think you would be.”

    Emi shifts, lowering her eyes and linking her hands together behind her back.

    “We’re leaving,” she says. “I didn’t want to - I like the temple better than home.”

    Gabriel raises his eyebrows, but he’s hardly one to talk when it comes to things like that.

    “Where are you going?” He asks. Emi shrugs. “You don’t know?”

    “He never tells us.”

    “Who’s ‘he’?”

    Emi fidgets some more.

    “Your dad?” Gabriel asks.

    “No.”

    “The guy who takes care of you, then?”

    “He’s in _charge_ of all of us,” Emi mutters. That doesn’t sound good. The tone alone would be enough to set off a couple sirens in Gabriel’s mind. “We all just call him Ande.”

    Her inflection doesn’t make it sound like it’s a title or anything. Emi’s visibly uncomfortable, though, so Gabriel changes the subject.

    “Well, let’s give you a good send-off, then.” Gabriel sits down on the steps and pats the spot next to him. Emi sits. “You wanna hear how things ended with Artemis and Orion?”

    “Yes.”

    When he finishes the story (some parts tactfully glossed over a little), Emi scrubs at her face.

    “I didn’t think it was going to be a sad story,” she says, sounding a little accusing. Gabriel pulls a handkerchief out of nowhere and hands it to her.

    “It was the first one I thought of last time,” he says, by way of apology. “Guess I should’a warned you it wasn’t a happy ending. The Greeks weren’t a very nice pantheon, a lot of the time.”

    Something cracks in the forest, like a branch being stepped on. A light flickers through the trees. Emi’s head snaps up.

    “I stayed out too late,” she says, sounding panicked. “He’s coming-”

    “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Gabriel says, putting a hand on her shoulder.

    “No,” Emi practically wails. The light stops flickering, like it’s now pointed squarely at them. “I’m not supposed to stay out, he gets mad-”

    “I’ll stay with you, then.”

    “You’re a _stranger,_ that’s _worse-_ ”

    “I’ll go in disguise, then,” Gabriel says, and winks, and shifts.

    Shapeshifting is a talent he uses less often, now that he uses the name Loki less often, and when he does normally it’s into another human shape, just colored or sized a little differently. Turning into an animal is another ballgame entirely, but he’s had weeks to study the Alderaani wildlife, and so he picks a little black foxlike creature he’s seen slinking around from time to time.

    He blends in exceptionally well to the night, like this. Even the light brown stone of the temple provides enough camouflage.

    Emi gapes at him. Gabriel butts his head against her hand. He’s pretty sure he’s gotten all the anatomy right, which is pretty good for a first try.

    Gently, Emi pets the top of his head. Gabriel’s ears flick automatically. He’d forgotten how sensitive they could be, in mammal shapes. But he can hear approaching footsteps, now, and the light through the trees is growing brighter.

    He slips behind Emi before the man emerges from the trees, pressing himself against her back. It’s meant to be reassuring, but mostly it means he can feel her trembling.

    “Here again?” Ande snaps. “We’re leaving for Elda in ten klicks. You _know_ you’re not supposed to go anywhere!”

    “I’m sorry,” Emi says, so quiet Gabriel can barely hear her.

    “Speak _up,_ I’ve told you a million times to stop being so quiet.”

    “I - I didn’t mean-”

    “I don’t have time to listen to excuses,” Ande interrupts. “Come on.”

    Emi hesitates, glancing back at the temple for maybe a second.

    “Oh, for-” Ande stomps over, making Emi cringe away, and reaches for her arm.

    His first mistake was getting close enough for Gabriel to bite.

    Ande shouts - screams? It’s pretty high-pitched - and shakes his hand frantically, trying to dislodge Gabriel. Emi scrambles away, taking refuge in the temple doorway.

    Gabriel lets go before Ande manages to hit him with the butt end of the blaster he’s carrying. He hits the ground and rolls back onto his feet. Ande’s fumbling with the blaster, the safety switch almost impossible to see in the dark.

     Gabriel goes for his ankles. Ande is wearing sturdy boots. Fortunately, they are not very tall boots.

    Ande kicks frantically, managing to fling Gabriel away when Gabriel lets go. There’s blood in his mouth, which is an unpleasant but not entirely unfamiliar sensation.

    The blaster’s safety clicks.

    “Don’t!” Emi howls. Gabriel dodges the bright red shot and lunges towards Ande, taking on a much, _much_ larger shape. A frightening shape. Something like those wolf-creatures on the temple wall, minus the spikes because that’s just impractical.

    Ande’s breath is punched out of his lungs when Gabriel’s paw flattens him against the ground. Gabriel’s holding - well, biting - his wrist; the one connected to the hand holding the blaster. He’s very carefully making sure that Ande is pointing it at the sky.

    Gabriel tightens his grip. It takes until he can taste more blood for Ande to drop the blaster. Gabriel drops his arm, and Ande presses it close to his chest with a whimper. As close as he can with Gabriel’s paw covering just about his whole ribcage.

    Gabriel growls, just because he can. Ande flinches. It’s very satisfying, to be able to _smell_ someone’s fear. He should do this more often.

    “If you touch any of them, ever again,” Gabriel growls, and Ande starts breathing a lot faster and more panicked, “I will know.” He should _definitely_ do this more often.

    If the Empire’s around, he’ll probably have plenty of opportunities.

    “Do you understand?” He growls. Ande starts babbling, _yes, please-_

    As soon as Gabriel lets him up, Ande bolts without a backward glance at Emi.

    Gabriel spits, to try and get some of the blood out of his mouth. Water would work better, but it would also be difficult to explain how he’d gotten it to Emi. Belatedly, he twists himself back into his usual shape.

    Emi practically flies down the stairs and latches onto him. It takes Gabriel a minute to realize that she’s crying, not just shaking.

    “Aw, hey.” Gabriel pats her head. “Hey, shh. He’s gone.” Emi’s practically clawing him, she’s clutching so tightly at his back.

    “He tried to shoot you,” Emi sobs.

    “That’s very nice of you to care so much,” Gabriel says softly. “He missed, though. See? I’m alright.” He tries not to open his mouth very far. Also, he could really use something to wash the taste of blood out, it’s getting irritating.

    It takes Emi a while to calm down, and even so ‘calm’ is only defined by ‘not actively crying anymore’. She’s still pretty shaken, so Gabriel just sits her down inside the temple, conjures some water for himself, and tries not to talk too loudly or move too fast.

    “What’m’I gonna do?” Emi sniffs. She’s huddled into a little ball under the blanket Gabriel had ‘found’. “He’s gonna be really, really mad.”

    “Hang out with me, obviously,” Gabriel says, trying not to sound condescending. Emi looks up at him, startled. “What? I’m not the kinda guy who’s okay with someone like _him_ taking care of kids.”

    “But-” Emi stares. “You don’t...have to.”

    “I don’t have to do anything, generally,” Gabriel says. “I’ve gotten very used to doing whatever I want.”

    Emi sniffs again and rubs under her nose.

    “No one’s gonna make _you_ do anything, either,” Gabriel says.

    “I don’t wanna go back,” Emi says. “But - everyone else...”

    “How many others were there?”

    Wordlessly, Emi holds up three fingers.

    “They’ll be okay,” Gabriel says. “I meant it when I said I’d know if he hurt them.” It gets harder to pay attention the farther away Ande gets, but it’s hardly a strain. Maybe he’ll have a coincidental streak of bad luck.

    “You promise?”

    “Yes. Do you trust me, when I say that?”

    “...I think so,” Emi says, after a long moment of silence. It’s more than Gabriel’s expecting.

    “Okay,” he says. Emi sniffs once, rubs her nose, and asks,

    “Are you gonna take me away?”

    “I don’t know,” Gabriel says. He doesn’t have anywhere to take her to. “It’d be rude to live in a temple. Besides, this place is too old.”

    Emi looks around apprehensively. “I like being here.”

    “I’m not saying we can never see it again, but it’s not exactly _new,_ ” Gabriel points out. “If you want to come with me, we’d need an apartment, at least.”

    “ _You_ were staying here.”

    “That was different.”

    “Why?”

    “Because it was me,” Gabriel says, honestly, and then lies a little. “I’m a grownup. Being responsible for a kid is different.”

    Emi absorbs that silently. She flinches a little when the stone of the temple shivers, a particularly hard gust of wind from outside seeming to shake the foundations. It’s not just vibrations from sound that gets picked up and carried, as it turns out.

    “Can you,” she says, “can you do that - the thing you did before-?” Gabriel gets what she means.

    He picks a big, fluffy kind of dog, the kind that puts people’s patience to the test when it tries to keep being a lap dog. He stretches, and then sits down next to Emi. She uncurls, a little, to curl an arm around him and bury her face in his fur.

    She nods off like that eventually, slumped against him. Gabriel changes back, very carefully, and slips away, first arranging her in a slightly more comfortable manner on the floor and, as an afterthought, making a small pillow.

    An apartment, at least, is a necessity. Everything else can wait until after he’s got that figured out.

    When Emi wakes up, he’s already back and has been for a while. He had to backtrack a couple hours, anyway - no point in waking someone up in the middle of the night to rent a place and making himself look suspicious. They take her lantern, still on the altar.

    “Think about it this way,” Gabriel says, when Emi lingers in the doorway. “That lantern’s for Mehe, right? So at some point we’ve got to come back to give it back to him.”

    “Okay,” Emi says, looking a little more cheerful.

    The apartment is in a small mountain town, near the capital but only close to it going by the time it takes to get there by shuttle. There are some fancy space-age silver chrome buildings, and ships soaring through the atmosphere, but other than that there are more echoes of familiarity than Gabriel had expected.

    The buildings are close together, but they’re also built with windowboxes and trailing places for ivy to grab on in artistic patterns. It’s all meant to blend into the environment, to fit into the shape of the mountainside. No identical, square brick townhouses or grid patterns to plan it all out. Gabriel appreciates that.

    The second-floor apartment comes partly furnished, which really just means there’s two beds, a table with some chairs, and various other small items that make the rooms look not-so-empty but very plain. Gabriel picks up a tablet, the kind you can get lessons and games on, and also half a dozen little sweet bun things from a bakery that’s conveniently right across the street.

    He and Emi sit on the floor and eat them, along with some vaguely dinner-like sandwiches he’d gotten as an afterthought, while Emi pokes at the tablet to log back into her school account. She’s eating something, at least; she’d seemed a little nauseated when Gabriel took her here by flying, and that normally only happened in adults.

    “You could go to an actual school, y’know,” Gabriel says around half a sweet bun. There’s probably one in this town somewhere.

    “Why?”

    “I dunno. To socialize with people your own age?” Alderaanian schools probably don’t teach with as much emphasis on the Imperial standard. “Besides, if you get confused about something you’re trying to learn on your own, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. An actual school would have...professionals and stuff.” He doesn’t actually know how Alderaanian schools actually work. He should probably look into that.

    “Maybe,” Emi says.

    “No rush. You gonna eat the rest of your sandwich?” Oh god, he sounds like a parent. Is he already? He’s responsible for a child now. Why the fuck did he think letting himself be a role model to a ten year old was a good idea?

    Gabriel inhales slowly, and gets the fuck over himself. It’s not like he hasn’t done this before.

    “Hey,” he says, “do you have a last name?”

    “No.” Emi looks wary.

    “Yeah, me neither. We’re probably going to have to make something up.”

    After a round of exchanging increasingly ridiculous ideas and a lot of giggling, they settle on ‘Leyjar’, because ‘Laufeyjarson’ is the closest thing Gabriel’s ever had to a real last name. The best lies are just true enough to be believable.

    Gabriel signs Emi up for school, which is drastically different from Earth schools but still manages to have a five-day week (out of eight). They get more furniture and other stuff, like colorful blankets and a couple soft stuffed animals and various things that people have in their houses. The flowers in the windowboxes, which they are expected to maintain as residents, only flourish because Gabriel has no idea what kind of care they require and skips straight to using Grace to keep them healthy (though he does water them occasionally).

    Neither of them a very good at staying in once place. Gabriel goes all over while Emi’s not home, wherever he likes, brings back strange treats. Emi will come home half an hour, an hour late because she was walking around in one of the huge parks that the town maintains. It works, even if it’s unconventional. They each have their ways.

    At some point, when they’re fairly settled into this life, Emi pokes her head around the doorway to his room and says, “I want to go to the bakery.”

    “Okay,” Gabriel says. “What for?”

    “They have cakes that look nice.”

    “We eat cake whenever we want, now?”

    “It’s my birthday.”

    Gabriel nearly does a spit take, except he’s not drinking anything. “ _Seriously?_ Geez, kid, you’re only telling me this now? Happy birthday!” He ruffles her hair. Emi’s grinning so hard it looks like it hurts. “Alright, cake. We can definitely get a cake. D’you want to pick it out?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Okay, well, as an official eleven-year-old, I’m gonna say you are old enough to be trusted with running across the street and getting it yourself.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows. “What do you say?”

    “Okay!”

    Gabriel finds what should be enough credits and hands them over. Emi practically sprints out the door, still grinning. He watches out the window until she gets across the street (looking around for speeders first, good girl) and disappears into the bakery.

    Shit. Presents.

    He’s probably got _something_ lying around _somewhere_ that he can give her.

    He can hear Emi come back in; the door slides open with an electronic whir, and she rattles around in the kitchen for a little while.

    “Where’d this come from?” She stops in the doorway. Gabriel surveys the mess he’s created. He has a _lot_ of stuff.

    “I thought I might - I was looking for something,” he says. Emi eyes the stuff either draped, scattered, or precariously balanced on their furniture and several on the windowsill or on top of other objects. “It’s not any of this.”

    “Are those kid’s clothes?” Emi somehow manages to zero in on a couple tunics thrown over the back of a chair. “Those aren’t mine. Why do you have kids’ clothes?” She says it like she thinks it’s funny.

    Gabriel stares at her a little helplessly. It’s not often words fail him, which is why he can never think of what to do when it happens. Emi’s smile fades.

    “Dad?” She asks tentatively, and Gabriel almost chokes.

    “Why don’t you - you can cut up the cake,” he says, almost desperate for a change of topic. “I’ll just - clean up. All this.”

     “Okay,” Emi says, looking nervous, and backs out. Gabriel packs away all the stuff with a sweep of his hand; sending it back to where it had been before, where he keeps all the stuff he’s accumulated over the years. He shouldn’t have hauled it all out.

    When he comes out, Emi has retreated to the front of the apartment with a slice of cake and her tablet. She does not look like she wants to be bothered.

    Gabriel takes a small slice for himself and retreats towards the back.

    There’s a balcony out on the back, that looks out onto their yard. It’s a fairly big square lot, mostly because they share it with the building that would be across the alley, if Alderaan had alleys, as well as the one next to them and the one next to the one opposite them.

    There’s usually lots of stuff down there, only occasionally unaccompanied by people. A couple toys scattered around that belong to the neighbor’s kids, the garage that belongs to the building kitty-corner to his and holds the third-floor teenager’s speeder bike.

    He stays until the sun is threatening to go down for good, and then he goes back inside.

    Emi’s in her room; the door is closed, but he can hear the noise of a popular holodrama that’s probably playing on her tablet.

    Gabriel knocks. Two light taps. The holodrama shuts off immediately.

    There is no setting to open the door only halfway; if there was, Emi probably would have used it. She doesn’t meet Gabriel’s eyes. His heart sinks a little.

    “You busy?” Gabriel asks, giving her a chance to say _yes_ and close the door.

    “Not really.”

    “Okay. How ‘bout we sit down?”

    Emi moves back, like she’s expecting Gabriel to walk in. Instead, he sits on the floor, cross-legged. He stays very firmly outside the door.

    Emi, after a moment, sits too.

    “The thing earlier,” Gabriel says. “I was - I didn’t really mean to haul that stuff out, and you pointing out the clothes specifically took me by surprise.” He sees a flicker of surprise cross Emi’s face. “It’s - _was_ a lotta really old memories. It’s not anything you did.”

    “You have kids’ clothes because you had a kid,” Emi says.

    “Yes,” Gabriel says. “A few.”

    “Something happened to them.”

    “...Yes.”

    “Sorry,” Emi mutters, but she’s looking up now, actually looking at him.

    “Hey, I’m already apologizing here. It’s _your_ birthday, you deserve better than to feel crappy just ‘cause I got reminded of some stuff that happened ages ago.” Gabriel smiles self-depreciatingly - _look at me being a jerk for no reason, huh?_

    “It wasn’t...” Emi shifts. “The Dad thing?”

    “No, no, that was just unexpected.”

    “Do you - was it-”

    “I don’t mind,” Gabriel says, heart beating a little faster. “You can call me whatever you want.”

    “Oh. Okay,” Emi says, less nervous than when she’d opened the door. “Can I-”

    “Yes.”

    “What happened to them? The person who owned those clothes?”

    Something must show on Gabriel’s face, because Emi immediately backtracks. “You don’t have to-”

    “A lot of stuff happened,” Gabriel says quietly, because damnit, if she trusts him enough to ask questions like this he’s going to answer them or else she’s not going to risk asking him anything remotely sensitive ever again. “It’s not a nice story.”

    When Emi doesn’t say anything else, he ruffles her hair. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. But is that a good enough answer for you?”

    “Yeah.”

    “Okay. Happy birthday. Do you want to go back to the temple?”

    Emi perks up. “ _Yes._ ”

     “Okay, grab your lantern.”   

    The temple’s dark and drafty, but the lantern lights up a suspicious amount of space considering it’s not that big. Maybe Mehe’s glad to see them, Gabriel thinks ironically. There’s still no sign of Mehe himself, though, so either he’s not inclined to show up or he’s got too few followers to be able to.

    Emi goes up to the tower and finds a bird’s nest just outside the window, three pale green eggs inside. She stands and watches it for ages, quietly enough that the parent flies right up to the nest without being scared away.

    Gabriel shows her an illusion, both of them sitting on the dusty temple floor. Emi is shocked and entranced by the miniature figures. At request, Gabriel puts on a one-man illusory show of the story of Elina. It’s only a combination of shadows and vague magical shimmers, but it looks good.

    They go home, eventually, and they go on with their lives. So does pretty much everyone else. Including, unfortunately, the Empire.

    As Emi gets older, Gabriel starts spotting more and more stormtroopers in the streets of Alderaan. They’re ‘guards’, ‘protectors of the peace’, there just to make sure there are no nasty rebels hiding out on Alderaan. Of course the royal family would never condone such a thing, of _course_ they welcome the Empire. There is nothing else they would (can) do.

    Emi learns the routes home that look like meandering visits to school friends and in reality take her along the roads least often visited by the Imperial troops. Gabriel learns some interesting places to visit that house some of the less desireable Alderaanians; the ones more likely to easily disobey little things like laws or royal decrees. A lot of them carry blasters. Gabriel starts hiding a small one of his own in a discreet pocket.

    He’s not a rebel. But he does keep a very close eye on a lot of people who are.

    It feels like somewhere, a clock is ticking down to the completion of the Death Star.

    Gabriel is in one such back alley of the capital (close enough to fly to, not close enough to anyone to suspect he came from anywhere but inside the city if he leaves in a hurry) when he sees a Stormtrooper walking a little faster than the apparent regulation stalk.

    Interesting.

    He follows.

    The Stormtrooper is following a man in a hooded cloak, with a mask pulled up over the lower half of his face. He really doesn’t want to be noticed, and it’s unfortunately obvious even in the dim evening light. He can’t be a rebel; or at least, not a rebel who leaves the house often, which seems like an oxymoron.

    “Hey!” The Stormtrooper says, when the man starts speeding up and turns into a dark, narrow side street. The man begins to run. Gabriel still follows. “ _Hey!_ ”

    “Hey,” Gabriel calls. Both of them turn around. He yanks the Stormtrooper’s gun out of his hands with a flick of his fingers, and another flick sends the Stormtrooper crashing into a wall. In this kind of neighborhood, no one even glances out the window to see what’s going on.

    The man might be gaping at him, Gabriel can’t tell. The mask is still up. He loops a hand around the other man’s shoulders.

    “Just walk,” he says, already pulling him back the way they came. No other Stormtroopers in sight, yet. The one he caught is unconscious and won’t remember a thing about seeing him. The other man falls into step quickly. “We haven’t done anything wrong, obviously. Take off your mask.”

    “I can’t,” other man says.

    “I don’t care if you’ve got a scar or whatever-”

    “No - I may be recognized-”

    “You won’t be,” Gabriel says, walking fast, heading back towards the nicer part of town.

    “You can’t possibly guarantee that-”

    “I just stole a guy’s gun and knocked him out without laying a finger on him, I’m pretty sure you saw that too,” Gabriel interrupts dryly. “I think I can say with reasonable confidence that I can keep people from recognizing you. Besides, you look way more suspicious like this. Take the hood off, too.”

    The guy does as he says, reluctantly, though admirably not once falling out of step with Gabriel. Gabriel takes his arm off the guy’s shoulder and they’re just two friends, walking together in a perfectly nice part of the capital city, and the other guy absolutely does not wince a little, anticipating violence or recognition, every time they pass a Stormtrooper.

    Gabriel pulls some spatial shenanigans to get them to his place. When the door of the apartment slides shut behind them, after a hurried not-run up the stairs, Emi calls, “Dad?” The man gives Gabriel a surprised look.

    “Hey,” Gabriel calls back. “Sorry I’m late, I was just talking with a friend.”

    “Who?” Emi’s footsteps are audible from a disappointing distance (thin walls are the hallmark of cheap apartments even in sci-fi, it seems) but she freezes as soon as she sees the other guy.

    “Ah,” the other guy says, “are you still doing whatever you were doing to stop me from being recognized?”

    Gabriel peers at him for a moment, looks at Emi’s shocked face, and then laughs uproariously in the face of Bail Organa, King Consort of Alderaan.

    “ _That’s_ where I recognized you from,” he says, still laughing.

    “You didn’t know who he was?” Emi asks, slightly shrilly, backing away to hide partially around the corner, only peeking out enough to stare at Bail and Gabriel.

    “I - really?” Bail seems either exasperated or faintly amused.

    “I’m not from here,” Gabriel says.

    “Liar,” Emi accuses. “You’ve been living here for three years at least.”

    “Three years is _not_ that much time.”

    “Yes it is!”

    Gabriel rolls his eyes overdramatically, just to make sure Emi doesn’t take it seriously, and gestures Bail further in. “You wanna sit down? There’s no windows in the kitchen.”

    “...Thank you,” Bail says.

    “Not a problem.” Gabriel leads the way. Emi trails after them and hides behind the kitchen doorway instead. Bail side-eyes her while very seriously pretending he isn’t.

    “Emi, maybe go to your room?” Gabriel says.

    “I don’t wanna,” she says.

    “Don’t you have homework?”

    “I finished it.”

    “I’m having a private conversation, then.” Emi narrows her eyes at him, so Gabriel amends it with, “I’ll tell you what happened later.”

    Apparently satisfied, Emi retreats down the hall.

    “Is that wise?” Bail asks.

    “Why, are you planning on telling me anything top-secret?” Gabriel replies, facing him again. “I can figure out what not to tell a fourteen-year-old, and she’s smart enough to know when to keep something to herself.”

    “You’re a very strange man,” Bail says.

    “And you're a terrible rebel,” Gabriel replies. “I’d figure that the king wouldn’t risk himself like you did tonight. What gives?”

    Bail frowns a little harder at the turn of phrase.

    “What’s that important?” Gabriel elaborates.

    “I generally use a courier to get to my contacts, but...this was an exception,” Bail says. “I could not trust handing it over to even my most loyal aide.”

    “Is that code for ‘I’m not gonna tell you what it was’?”

    “I - no, I would not share it so casually.” Bail glances around like he’s suddenly suspicious of the apartment being bugged or something.

    “Fair,” Gabriel says, and gets up. He can feel Bail staring at him as he opens the space-age Alderaanian version of a fridge - or maybe just the Star Wars version of it. There’s probably a word for it, but he can’t remember it.

    Gabriel pulls out two bottles of a chocolate-y, vaguely alcoholic drink that is sold along with regular treats at the bakery across the street, and tosses one towards Bail, who catches it automatically.

    “You’re very irreverent,” Bail says.

    “‘Irreverent’ is my middle name,” Gabriel says, popping open his bottle. “I’m not from Alderaan originally. Guess I’m not used to royalty yet.” He takes a swig. Bail glances at the label, and then puts his bottle down.

    “I did not expect to be aided by someone with such strange talents,” Bail said. “People who can move things without touching them, or make people think they see something other than what truly is are...rare, nowadays.”

    Oh, if Gabriel were somewhere Bail couldn’t see or hear him, he’d be cracking up right now. Is _that_ really what he thinks is going on here?

    “I’ve noticed,” Gabriel says, pretending to noticeably fake disinterest. Were there any Jedi that escaped the massacre or whatever that the Emperor enacted? Damnit, he should have watched more than just episode one of the prequels, there would probably be an answer in there somewhere. But even the Jedi-in-training, the kids, were killed, weren’t they? It’s doubtful that any adult Jedi were left alive.

    “I wouldn’t expect anyone with that kind of talent to use it so openly,” Bail says carefully.

    “You weren’t complaining when I saved your unobservant ass from that Stormtrooper,” Gabriel says. Bail stares. “What? If you wanna be treated like royalty, go home. I told you, I’m not used to doing whatever you expected. Are you ‘Your Majesty’ or something?”

    “No, my wife is,” Bail says, after a very long moment in which he appears to think he can read Gabriel’s mind just by looking at him hard enough. “She’s the Queen; officially, I am only the king-consort.”

    “Huh,” Gabriel says. “Where I come from, it’s usually done through the male line.”

    “How odd,” Bail says. There’s a moment of thoughtful silence, and then Bail plunges forward. “I assume you have no love for the Empire. The Rebellion could always use the help, and with abilities like that you’d be a real asset.”

    Gabriel raises one eyebrow and sits back down. “That so?”

    “We have allies, but nothing so concrete as to allow us to truly combat the Empire,” Bail says, leaning forward a little. “Open war is something nobody wants, but our activities now are not enough.”

    “That’s some heavy stuff you’re telling me,” Gabriel says. “Am I legally allowed to know this?”

    “Technically, no,” Bail says. “All these activities are unofficial, or silently added onto other duties that would give us a reasonable excuse. The Emperor has the luxury of not needing to do this.”

    “By virtue of running everything,” Gabriel murmurs. “Through proxy, at least.”

    “And the only other person I know of with...unusual abilities is working for him,” Bail says. He pauses for a moment, like he’s expecting Gabriel to say something, and then continues a little more desperately, “What you did tonight-”

    Gabriel can’t hold it in anymore. He cracks up. Bail breaks off, looking puzzled and a little offended.

    “Sorry,” Gabriel manages, “Just - I knock out a Stormtrooper for a random guy and you assume I’m gonna refuse to join the Rebellion? I’m flattered you were prepared to go to such lengths. Was this a specific recruitment speech you had prepared, or were you making it up on the fly?”

    “It - I generally go for the same general points,” Bail says, looking bewildered. Gabriel has that effect on most people. “I can’t say I give many recruitment speeches myself.”

    “Well, don’t I feel special,” Gabriel laughs, and takes another drink. “Is anyone going to start missing you, back at the palace?”

    Bail starts, as if he’d forgotten the events that led him to be here, in Gabriel’s kitchen, still wary enough to not take the offered drink.

    “Perhaps not, if I’m lucky,” he says. “Still, I should be getting back.”

    “Have a nice night,” Gabriel says.

    Emi peeks around the corner as soon as the door slides shut, and demands,

    “Why was the _king_ in our kitchen?”

    “I didn’t _plan_ it,” Gabriel scoffs, and puts the untouched bottle back in the fridge thing. Whatever it’s called.

    “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

    “I promised, didn’t I?” Gabriel gestures her closer. Emi sits down. “Would you prefer the fancy version, or the version where I tell you straight-up that all that happened was he invited me to join the Rebellion?”

    “He _what?_ ”

    Gabriel’s acquaintance with Bail extends beyond that one night. Gabriel never goes to the palace (or even the capital, really), but sometimes he’ll find a very suspiciously pristine and old-fashioned envelope waiting for him (the first one was secured to the door with what looked like a fancy magnet - after he laughed at Bail through a holocall and pointed out how weird it was, they go through his landlady like normal). Apparently electronic conversation is too risky, but Gabriel feels that envelopes are more suspicious. He tells his landlady that he has a cousin with autism for whom electronic communication is very difficult, but she loves to write and stay in contact, _nearly half a planet away and I don’t see her half as often as I’d like, yes thanks for keeping them safe for me!_

    Occasionally there will be a ‘discreet’ royal servant, or someone who’s actually discreet (the latter range from ‘probably doesn’t work in the palace’ to ‘possibly an outright anarchist’). They hand over some bit of information or another, or a request for help. Usually, Gabriel does what he’s asked to do; when he doesn’t, it’s because he’s thought of a better way to do it. Given that this is the Rebellion, not doing anything would result in arrests and probably deaths.

    _No one makes us do anything,_ Gabriel thinks to himself one time while returning home, and then processes the thought fully and freezes in the doorway for a good five minutes. Only the sound of another door opening down the hall jolts him back into motion.

    One day, he gets cornered by a less-discreet, more-frazzled-than-usual royal servant, who by some miracle has managed to wear a jacket over their uniform and cover the distinctive royal sigil. He is handed a small infodrive (it doesn’t look much like a flash drive, all round and lined with electric blue like the silver lines on a circuit board) and informed that if it does not find its way into the hands of local senator Antilles within three hours, a lot of things will begin to go wrong very quickly.

    It’s a little vague for Gabriel’s tastes, but apparently they’re on a time limit and Senator Antilles’ hometown, where he currently resides, is four hours away even by the fastest means available. He doesn’t ask how long the slowest means take, but it’s a funny prospect.

    After the royal servant dashes off, Gabriel walks a couple of blocks over and uses the map in the lobby of the local history museum to figure out where the fuck he’s even supposed to be going. It’s a straight shot from their little mountain town to this other city, but the mountains get in the way, cutting even the capital off and no doubt making any routes there very time-consuming.

    It doesn’t make sense that the royal family doesn’t have access to _some_ kind of ship that could get them there quick - but then again, that would be very noticeable, wouldn’t it? And the Rebellion of all organizations needs to stay under the radar.

    A straight path over the mountains. There’s some kind of bird that lives high up there - Gabriel’s seen them occasionally. Big white albatross-y creatures.

    He leaves the museum, technically. Going to the roof, he thinks, counts as leaving, since he’s no longer inside. There are none of those birds within sight - _malana_ , that’s what they’re called - but he can remember what they look like.

    He tosses the infodrive a couple of times, thoughtfully, then throws it straight up in the air. Before it’s fallen more than halfway back, he catches it again - in a very different shape.

    Also technically he catches it in his foot, since wings are difficult to do anything but fly with. But semantics.

    Flying like this is very different than flying like he normally does. For one, it’s much slower. He’s flown like this many times while in disguise, but apparently going back to the angelic talent for just a little while has made the difference more startling.

    But it’s nice, like this. Alderaan is beautiful from high up, and the wind over his feathers feels good. As long as he doesn’t drop the infodrive, his path over the mountains looks unhindered.

    He’s got two and a half hours, ish; Gabriel’s not entirely confident in his abilities to keep track of that in Alderaanian time, but whatever.

    Should he have left a note for Emi in case she got home before he did? Probably. Damnit.

    The air gets chillier, the higher up he goes, but it’s hardly an obstacle. He runs into a couple other startled-looking _malana,_ nesting in the cracks and ledges of the mountains. Once he gets over the peaks, his destination is a visible smudge on the horizon.

    By the time he lands, the sky is threatening rain. There are a couple odd shapes on the horizon he’d like to check out later, but for now he’s still got a time limit.

    Senator Antilles, luckily, is easy to find.

    “‘Scuse me,” Gabriel calls out as he strolls up. The senator’s three bodyguards immediately turn around, looking appropriately threatening. The man in question also turns around, looking much less so.

    Gabriel smiles and tries to project charm. There are times when being short and generally round come in handy. “Sorry, I must have caught you at an odd time. A mutual friend of ours sent me by.”

    “Oh?” The senator’s smile doesn’t even flicker when he feels the infodrive Gabriel presses into his palm, disguising the movement as a handshake. “Yes, I believe he’s mentioned you. Adona sent you?”

    “That’s the one.”

    “I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten what your name was.” The senator laughs self-depreciatingly. “Knowing Adona, he may not have told me.”

    “Gabriel,” Gabriel says with a smile.

    “Well Gabriel, I’m sure my security detail won’t mind if you come up with me,” the senator says. “After all, I’m allowed a plus-one to this event.”

    “I’ve got time to spare,” Gabriel says cheerfully. “Count me in.”

    The security detail sullenly offer him a little electronic pass thing with a strip of metal and a shiny mark that probably is so he can get into the building, once Gabriel gets through their random mandatory checks. However, they don’t enter the elevator, instead waiting outside.

    “Surprising we’re not being escorted up,” Gabriel remarks as the doors close.

    “Oh, I assume they’re not high-level enough to attend this gathering,” the senator replies.

    “Must have some pretty good security in these elevators.”

    “I don’t think so; most things are prevented before anyone even gets inside.”

    “Handy. At least if I fart I know no one’ll be listening,” Gabriel jokes, and the senator snorts. Gabriel leans a little closer, and mutters, “Adona is your public name for the king, right?”

    “Yes,” the senator replies, just as quietly. “Did he really send you?”

    “By proxy.”

    “Call me Kao, then, it’s my first name. As far as anyone upstairs has to know, you’re a mutual friend who I’ve known for some time but who lives too far away to come visit often.”

    “Gotcha.”

    The doors open, and Gabriel is escorted into what looks like a political meet-and-greet. It’s basically exclusively people in fancy clothes mingling and making small talk; a man who can only be the host sweeps over, in the fanciest and shiniest clothes with a bevy of medals pinned to his right breast. There is an Imperial seal stitched onto the left side. It’s an incredible exercise in willpower for Gabriel to keep from grimacing when he sees it.

    “Senator Antilles, so glad you could make it,” he says, sickly cheerful, but his gaze cools when it lands on Gabriel. “And your plus one? I heard it was a last-minute arrangement.”

    “My friend Miol,” the senator - Kao - says. “I didn’t realize he was in town until just now, I’m afraid. I promise you can trust him not to leak any state secrets.” They both laugh. Gabriel fakes a smile.

    “It’s too bad your cousin couldn’t make it,” the man says, leading them to a semi-private corner of the room, where there is a long sofa with a tall back curled around a circular table. “I meant to reserve this wine for him, but given that you’re currently the highest-ranked person in this room, I thought you might appreciate it.”

    “That’s kind of you, Grandmaster-” Kao begins, as the man pours out a few glasses. Only two, Gabriel notes, and he holds onto one himself. He doesn’t, however, drink from it yet.

    “Oh, call me Kristos, please,” the Imperial officer - or sympathizer - says. “Let’s not be overly formal, eh?”

    “If you say so,” Kao says, with a smile that Gabriel has to look closely to find the falseness in. He’s good at this.

    “I have some things to tell you, actually, if we might speak privately for a moment?” Kristos glanced at Gabriel unsubtly. “It’s to do with - recent developments.”

    “Of course,” Kao says, putting down his glass without having touched it. “Miol, if you don’t mind-?”

    “I’ll just wait here and not touch anything?” Gabriel suggested. Kao cracked a smile.

    “I’ll be quick.”

    Gabriel glances at the wine, as soon as they’re out of sight, then glances around, then takes Kao’s glass and takes a sip. Might as well; it doesn’t look like there’s anything better to do here than get drunk. Not that he really can let himself, here, but it’s the thought that counts.

    The first sip tastes weird. Gabriel frowns, shifting it around his mouth a little. It _could_ just be alien wine, but...

    Oh, wow, that’s _definitely_ the buzz of something trying to kill his central nervous system. Poison it is.

    Gabriel glances around again, making sure no one’s watching, then dips a finger inside the jug Kristos had poured from and tastes _that._ The whole thing’s definitely poisoned, not just something dropped into Kao’s drink. That’s stupid. But then again, he’d been reserving it.

    When the two of them head back, Gabriel smiles and snatches up Kao’s drink, reaching out to hand it to him. “Guess you meant it when you said quick!” He’s so eager, in fact, that he spills the glass over Kao’s front. All three of them yelp; Kristos looks extra dismayed.

    “ _Shit,_ sorry,” Gabriel says. “Here, I’ll help you find a bathroom and clean up.” He fairly hauls Kao (subtly) out of the room before Kao can get past ‘really’ in “It’s no trouble, really-”

    “What was that all about?” Kao demands once they’re in the hallway. Gabriel lets him tug his arm out of Gabriel’s grip. The wine blends in pretty well with the dark color of his clothing, but it’s wet and shiny and still noticeable.

    Gabriel reaches out without physically moving and makes all the security - microphones, at least - fuzz out. “Walk with me.”

    “Will you explain?” Kao, at least, falls into step next to him.

    “The wine’s poisoned.”

    Kao does a double-take and slows. Gabriel grabs his arm again, to make him keep walking.

    “And you _spilled_ it on me?” Kao hisses.

    “Poison, not acid,” Gabriel mutters.

    “How could you tell?”

    “Something was off about it. Couldn’t tell what at first, but I recognized it,” Gabriel lies. “It makes the wine go a tiny bit off-color, you can’t tell unless you know what you’re looking for, or your generous host might lie about the vintage, I suppose.”

    Kao stops dead again.

    “He was saving it,” he says faintly.

    “Yes, no-show cousin or whatever, can we please go somewhere we won’t be walked in on?”

    “For my _cousin,_ ” Kao says, looking Gabriel in the eye. “My _cousin_ Bail Organa, formerly Antilles.”

    “Oh, shit,” Gabriel says.

    Gabriel cheats a little with the security system on the public comm to let Kao safely call his cousin. They go back and mingle politely, after Kao makes his excuses to Kristos (“Must talk to everyone, you know how these things go”) and the wine is not touched by anyone.

    It’s very satisfying, once the Alderaanian law enforcement show up, to watch their Imperial sympathizer of a host try to indignantly sputter his way out of an arrest.

    “Poisoned wine?” He shouts. “Impossible!”

    “He says so, sir,” says the woman putting Kristos in handcuffs, jerking her chin at Gabriel. Gabriel really wishes he hadn’t been pointed out.

    “That’s ridiculous!” Kristos spits out. “He couldn’t have possibly seen me put poison in there!”

    “So you _did_ poison it?” Gabriel asks cheerfully. Kristos goes a little more sickly pale.

    “Because I didn’t poison it, obviously!” He recovers admirably, but the forensic specialist investigating both glasses and the jug shakes his head and says,

    “No, this looks pretty poisonous to me,” and holds up a little strip of paper like all he’d done was test the acidity of it or something. It’s more than a little hilarious, and so is Kristos’s face as he gets hauled off.

    “You think whatever punishment he gets will stick?” Gabriel asks in an undertone to Kao as they stand outside, waiting for Kao’s personal transport to arrive. The security guards are lurking nearby, somewhat sheepishly.

    “Even the Emperor can’t have his people publicly trying to assassinate members of the Alderaanian senate,” Kao says, matching his volume. “It’ll never get out that he was really after Bail, though. He can’t take that kind of hit.”

    “We should be grateful it serves the Emperor’s interests, I guess,” Gabriel says sarcastically. Kao snorts.

    “It happens rarely enough that our interests collide,” he said. “I feel like we should commemorate it somehow. The Emperor, finally on our side.”

    “Unless he was the one who gave the order.”

    “Don’t talk like that,” Kao says lightly, but there’s a genuine warning in it. “Why don’t we retire? I’m set up in the official Senatorial apartments here; they’re quite nice.”

    “No, I should go home,” Gabriel says.

    “Well, feel free to drop by anytime.”

    “I’ll keep that in mind,” Gabriel says with a smile, and he means it.

    The flight back over the mountains is uneventful, although a few other birds try to fall in next to him from time to time. Gabriel lands on his own balcony, shifts back, and walks in; though he has to unlock it first, which is only marginally more difficult than doing it from the inside.

    The balcony leads into the kitchen; Gabriel always thought it was for the view, so one could appreciate it while eating. There’s a clatter from farther in, and Emi skids into the kitchen.

    “You’ve been gone for ages!” She says. There’s a bit of genuine hurt in her voice. “Where were you?”

    “Foiling an assassination.”

    “Shut up, I’m serious!” It’s a real marker of how much she’s grown that Emi says that to him without any hesitation.

    “Classified,” Gabriel says instead, poking his head inside the fridge. “Damn, we need to go shopping.”

    “You made a list yesterday and forgot about it,” Emi says. “Is it really classified?”

    “Mostly. If all of it isn’t, it will be by now, or else on the news tomorrow.” Gabriel checks the front of the fridge - yep, shopping list.

    “Really?”

    “I don’t see why not.”

    “Are you gonna tell me what happened, ever?”

    Gabriel closes the fridge and meets her gaze.

    “If I don’t tell you something, it’s because it doesn’t matter or I think knowing it will put you in danger,” he says. “Whether that danger is danger from the Empire, or something else. I trust you to use that information sensibly and to keep it to yourself if it needs to be kept secret, but I’m also asking you to trust me to tell you what you need to know. Do you understand that?”

    “Yeah,” Emi says. The irritation is gone from her expression.

    “Good.”

    “I’m kinda hungry.” Emi changes the topic.

    Gabriel checks the time. “Let’s order in, I’m not feeling like cooking.”

    “Okay.”

    The events of his afternoon take up the news cycle for a good month or two; after that, people stop wildly speculating and settle back into regular news. About a week after that, he gets an official invitation to the palace.

    Fastened to his door, again. Subtle.

    Gabriel takes Emi with him, because it’s not a school day and he doesn’t know how long he’ll be gone. Alda is only an hour or so away, by the speedy shuttle train that links the town and the capital city, and Emi is practically glued to the window as it approaches ever closer on the horizon.

    There’s a guy waiting at the station with their last name on a card. Gabriel never told Bail what his was, but whatever. It’s not that surprising that the king could find out the false one he and Emi have been using. Emi seems amazed by it, however.

    Emi seems a little starstruck by _all_ of it. True, the transport is fancy, but Gabriel’s seen plenty of ‘fancy’ and royalty over his lifetime. Alderaan is just a little more silver chrome and trailing flower trellises than the rest.

    There’s a servant at the gate to let them in, and a second at the end of the driveway to courteously open the door for them, and a third to lead them inside. It’s all very elaborate. Gabriel wonders vaguely how many people the palace employs; they all have slightly different uniforms, enough to tell them apart, and some have colorful hair or piercings. The Organas run an interesting ship.

    Gabriel pauses in the doorway. There’s a small ornament fastened to the side of the lintel, a whitish color like it’s made of ivory, and gilt around the edges. It’s too familiar for Gabriel to mistake it.

    Well. It makes the synagogue-ish place he saw before make a little more sense.

    Gabriel follows the servant inside before he attracts too much attention by lingering.

    Bail rises from his seat when the three of them enter the room. Emi hides behind Gabriel but acts like she’s trying not to hide; Gabriel’s attention is diverted to Bail’s companions.

    “So glad you could make it,” Bail says cheerfully.

    “You mean to apologize for how it was unexpected and on short notice, I assume,” Gabriel retorts, equally cheerful, letting Bail shake his hand.

    “I’m afraid you have me to thank for that,” says Queen Breha Organa, rising regally from her seat on the small sofa that had contained Bail too only a moment ago. “He finally gave into my requests to meet his elusive friend who’d done so much to help.”

    “You flatter me.” Gabriel smiles and puts his hand on Emi’s back, pushing her forward a little. “Dunno if you mentioned her, but I couldn’t exactly leave her at home.”

    “Hi,” Emi manages to squeak out.

    “Oh, it’s no problem at all,” Breha says, quickly directing her attention to Emi. “You must be about Leia’s age, right?”

    “I’m fourteen, actually,” Emi says, managing to hide the long-suffering tone she usually adopts when the eight millionth person mistakes her for much younger than she really is. She’s not just short, but smaller in general. Leia herself, still sitting down but peering around her mother curiously, looks intrigued and about twelve years old. Gabriel mentally recalculates the part of his mind that’s keeping an insistent, Doomsday-ish countdown to the Death Star. But Leia herself is hard _not_ to notice; something that must be the Force makes her twinge on the edge of Gabriel’s something’s-up radar. Unrealized potential for something very, very big.

    “Older than Leia _and_ Chava, then,” Breha says. Seeing Gabriel’s raised eyebrows, she adds, “Chava is our youngest.”

    “Ah,” Gabriel says, nodding. That was never in the movies. He feels like there should have been a mention of siblings - but then, there never was much time ‘wasted’ on acknowledging movie Leia’s loss.

    It takes approximately three seconds of Leia and Emi being within ten feet of each other before Leia drags her away to go find Chava for some game that requires at least three people. Gabriel manages to keep an eye on them by dint of the pair, accompanied by a third indistinct shape, almost immediately appearing just outside on the wide lawn.

    “They’re perfectly safe, you know,” Bail comments.

    “I know,” Gabriel says, still looking out the window. “Emi’s just not good at saying no to forceful people.”

    “I’m sure Chava will lend some calm to the situation,” Breha says, as yet another servant who sets down what looks like a tea service. Man, royalty. There are similarities wherever you go, apparently. “Thank you, Anda. Leia tends to be the more easygoing of the two.”

    Gabriel turns around, reluctantly, and sits properly. To make up for that, he also crosses his legs and slouches a little in the chair. It’s a very comfortable chair. Bail looks a little exasperated; Breha is unruffled, calmly pouring out three cups of whatever’s in the pitcher. Literally unruffled, Gabriel thinks with a small grin, eyeing her layered sleeves, which are still lying in artfully draped and undisturbed cascades off her shoulders.

    “I’m glad you were able to make it today, at any rate,” Bail says.

    “I don’t exactly have a jam-packed schedule,” Gabriel says airily.

    “What is it that you do?” Breha asks. “You must get money somehow.”

    “Oh - this and that.” He _has_ had a couple of real jobs since arriving, but only for as long as he felt like keeping them. As for money, well, he has his ways. “Spent a little while about a year ago working for this guy who planted flowers in parks and stuff, you know, to arrange it all nicely.”

    “What fun!” Breha seems to honestly mean it. “We have our own gardens here, of course, but I hardly have any time to go look at them, much less participate in growing them.”

    “I think the kitchen staff grow some of their own things,” Bail remarks. “Food and the like, you know. Of course we can’t grow anything near the kennels.”

    “Kennels?”

    “The rulers of Alderaan traditionally keep some hunting dogs,” he explains. “Not that it’s very common to _go_ hunting, but you know tradition, I’m sure.”

    The cups are evenly distributed; Breha makes a lighthearted joke about poisoning, and Bail playfully pretends to choke on his first sip. The stuff in the cup tastes like mint - it _is_ mint tea, actually, the taste is too similar for it to be space mint tea or anything like that.

    Huh. Of all the things to stay the same from universe to universe.

    They talk for a while. Breha is nice, and good at pointedly icy retorts, especially when it has to do with politics. Bail seems almost too earnest to exist; the Empire’s the only institution he’s willing to admit is wholly bad. The kids tumble back inside at some point; Breha smoothly guides the conversation away from politics in the space of a few seconds.

    Emi looks happy, but she also sits next to Gabriel and leans into him, seemingly content to stay quiet for the rest of the night. Leia does not seem quite as happy to let her go unbothered, but she’s mostly distracted by Chava, who bears a distinct resemblance to Breha and has her hair braided into a crown.

    The sun is low in the sky, so Breha graciously offers to let them stay for dinner. “It’s hardly any difficulty to have things set out for two more people,” she says. “And I promise, we save the ten-course meals for formal dinners with diplomats and the like.”

    She tells the truth; it’s a simple meal, at least by royal standards. There’s even a surprisingly plain loaf of bread, but that’s covered by a white cloth embroidered at the corners.

    Gabriel wonders how, on a planet with an eight-day week, they manage to celebrate a seventh day of rest at the end of it. Then he processes that he has somehow been invited to a space Shabbat dinner, and blanks out a little.

    The last time he attended something like this was - well. Those kinds of things had always been for humans, not angels, but it was probably with Mary. She was always inviting him along to human things like that, forgetting or ignoring his celestial status.

    Gabriel is not sure whether to panic or be glad.

    It’s not like his brothers can find him _here_ of all places, but the instinct to avoid anything and everything relating to his family in any way hits Gabriel hard. He’s pretty sure he zones out almost completely, but he sits down and manages not to say or do anything incredibly weird while Breha recites the kiddush.

    Instinct also kicks in, luckily, when it comes to appearing normal; Gabriel mechanically sips the stuff that’s passed around in a cup (doesn’t taste like wine but looks like it, probably something more kid-friendly), reacts in the right way to the right thing, and generally fakes his way through dinner until he can escape the conversation afterwards to a balcony, leaving the rest of them gathered in a small nook, as much as ‘nook’ or ‘small’ can describe anything in the palace.

    Aldera is laid out on the valley below. The capital city is built on the sloping side of a mountain, with the palace nestled nearly halfway up one of them, at an angle that would have been precarious for any architect hailing from Earth. From here, it looks like a bunch of glitter scattered on the ground, light shining out from various windows and streetlamps. A universe in miniature, and a view of it all from on high.

    “You’re being rather unsociable, compared to a moment ago,” Bail says from behind him. Gabriel’s hands tighten momentarily on the railing.

    “Just thinking,” he says, without looking away from the sprawl of space-age metropolis. Bail joins him at the railing, nursing a small cup of what looks like the tea from earlier. A stiff breeze blows past, but it’s not very cold. Something in Gabriel feels like shivering anyway.

    He’s running so wholeheartedly on instinct it’s a little more difficult to ignore the more human ones. Gabriel makes an effort to straighten himself out a little, crowd those bits back into the corner of his mind.

    “About what?”

    “Stuff. This-” Gabriel gestured vaguely. “Stuff.”

    “The dinner?” Bail sounds confused, but it’s edged with something else now, warier. Gabriel mentally backtracks.

    “There was not a good way to make that come out,” he says, snorting a little at his own misstep. _Think before you fucking speak, self._ “I didn’t - _haven’t_ done anything like this in...a long time. I wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.”

    “But you used to?” Bail sounds surprised.

    “It’s...complicated.”

    “You said you weren’t from Alderaan?” Bail questions, an edge of curiosity in his voice. “I wouldn’t have thought your family had that kind of ancestry.” Gabriel barks out a laugh.

    “That’s - you could say that’s complicated, to.”

    “So your family wasn’t practicing?”

    “God, questions about _them_ are the last thing I need right now,” Gabriel says, surprising even himself with the amount of venom in it. He spies a mostly ornamental looking chair and collapses into it, rubbing a hand over his face so he doesn’t have to look at Bail.

    “Are you drunk?” Bail asks.

    “No.” Gabriel considers that, and revises it to “I doubt it.” He’s drunk a lot tonight, maybe, but he hasn’t been trying to get drunk, which is the usual requirement of being able to, for him.

    “Not an answer that necessarily inspires confidence.” Bail sits down next to him. The chair is uncomfortable and cold, and Bail’s probably is too - Gabriel wonders why he doesn’t just go back inside.

    “I inspire lots of things,” Gabriel says, instead of voicing his thoughts. Paintings. Religions. Fear. Most of the inspiration was done without his actually doing anything, though. Except the religions. There was a lot of the paintings and fear, and only three religions. He’s pretty sure he owns a couple of the paintings.

    “At the moment, you’re inspiring me to try and take you back inside. It’s far too chilly out to have a conversation outside.”

    “I’m a grown-ass man,” Gabriel says, which is a statement that is debatable in multiple ways.

    “Then will you make the adult decision to come inside?”

    Gabriel considers that, too. “Yeah, I guess.”

    When the night starts falling more thoroughly, Bail offers to send them home (or to the train station, at least) in luxury, similar to their arrival. Emi, unused to long nights, drops off on the train ride and only wakes up long enough to go from the train to a taxi-ish transport and from the taxi to their house.

    Bail makes a point of inviting them over, usually Friday evenings. Gabriel’s not entirely sure what he means by it, so he makes a point of randomly refusing. But he does go enough times to get used to it.

    He goes enough to start noticing little differences, actually. It’s not exactly surprising - he’s a universe and a half over from where he comes from, he’s amazed that their kiddush and the one he’s used to are at all similar, much less identical. But some other stuff - there’s little differences, wording and some weird grammar, and of course Gabriel notices that. It’s impossible not to. He’s not _trying_ , but he could probably recite anything from a Shehecheyanu to a Hail Mary to a Salat al-‘isha off the top of his head. In his _sleep_. Shit’s ingrained way in his base code.

    It’s not that Gabriel doesn’t _like_ it, the dinners and everything, it’s that he hasn’t allowed himself to for thousands of years and it probably takes more work than just occasional exposure to get used to something like that not being an indirect threat on his life.

    Emi probably thinks he’s just being a weirdo, but she’s a sweet kid and puts up with their standing invitation to royal shabbat dinner being randomly discarded in favor of some random adventure, or even just a holodrama marathon with shitty cheap snacks. Alderaan doesn’t have popcorn, which is a crying shame. They don’t even have terrible _fake_ popcorn. Why.

    He doesn’t ask this question to anyone, because nobody on Alderaan would have any clue what he was talking about, but it’s tempting.

    He’s thinking about the popcorn again, for some reason, in another one of their loose after-dinner gatherings, when a pale-faced servant hurries in and says, “Your Highness, there’s an Imperial delegation.”

    Breha straightens, smile fading. Emi freezes. Leia and Chava look worriedly towards their mother.

    “What for?” Bail questions, standing up and attracting the servant’s attention.

    “They said they wanted to speak to the Queen about - about rumors of rebel activity,” the servant says, swallowing nervously. Bail glances at Gabriel. Breha puts her cup down, admirably calm, at least to all appearances.

    “Why?” Leia demands, sitting up in outrage.

    “I am afraid we have been interrupted in the middle of a late dinner,” Breha says to the servant, putting out a hand towards Leia as if to quiet her. “If the Imperial delegation will be so kind as to wait.”

    The servant nods, but hesitates, lingering. “They said - they’d like to speak to each member of the royal family. Separately.”

    Bail makes a noise under his breath that might be a curse word. Chava grasps at Breha’s trailing sleeves, looking frightened. Leia frowns more fiercely.

    “We will need a minute to find rooms, then,” Breha says, covering Chava’s hand with her own. “Send in whoever is outside when you leave, if you please, Anda, and feel free to walk slowly. It is Shabbat, after all. One shouldn’t work too hard, even when work is necessary.”

    “Yes, your Highness.”

    “You should go,” Bail says as soon as Anda leaves, turning to Gabriel.

    “Like they’re not gonna notice me leaving?” Gabriel scoffs, nervously keeping one hand on Emi’s shoulder. He can practically hear her heart pounding.

    “Then what?”

    “Bail, be calm,” Breha says sternly. “Rumors, not fact. They only suspect that we are up to something, so we must not act suspicious.” She turns to address the other servant who’s just entered, fidgeting nervously and not exactly calming down under royal scrutiny. “Tam, is it?”

    “Yes, your Highness,” the servant says in a rush.

    “Tam, if you please, escort my daughters to the two receiving rooms on the first floor - not past our guests, if you can help it. And I believe my husband will receive them in his study.”

    Bail hides his reaction well, but Gabriel would have given every credit he has that Bail’s study holds more than books.

    “Of course,” he says. “After I arrange matters with our other guest-”

    “I’m good,” Gabriel says. “Just take Emi downstairs - somewhere out of the way. I’m guessing they won’t bother with minor servants.” Not many dictators do. Something about the working class being unimportant, or at least good at being unnoticeable.

    “But what about you?” Emi grabs his wrist in alarm.

    “I’ll be fine.” Gabriel gives Bail a pointed look, too, because Emi’s not the only one doubting him.

    “It seems we’re settled, then.” Breha smooths her skirts out and gently detaches Chava’s hand from her dress. “Be good, you two. You’ve done nothing to warrant this.”

    Neither Leia nor Chava look particularly reassured. Gabriel sends Emi off with a quick forehead kiss, and she looks positively petrified.

    Bail turns around to talk to him when they’re all gone, but Gabriel’s already out the balcony door and dropping down to the first floor. Luckily, the balcony’s not that high up, so he can pass it off as luck or talent.

    He finds, after a little while, a room with floor-to-ceiling windows and a large curving sofa currently occupied by one Princess Leia. Gabriel taps on the glass, and she startles, jolting around.

    He can’t tell what she says, because she hisses it and it’s difficult to read lips, especially coupled with how it’s also difficult to hear her (whatever the windows are made of, it’s gotta be more than glass). Gabriel’s best guess is _What are you doing?_

He makes a face at her and gestures in a way that hopefully gets across _Let me in?_ Leia glances at the door, then vaults over the back of the sofa and opens one of the windows, which turns out to tilt out from the bottom. There’s a near-invisible split about a third of the way up, and then at two-thirds, so that the middle section swings out neatly.

    “What?” She asks anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

    “Nah, just thought I’d keep you company in light of the new arrivals.”

    “They won’t let anyone else stay in the room with me,” Leia says, frowning at him.

    “I have my ways,” Gabriel says cheerfully, and puts a leg over the windowsill. “Scoot.”

    “What ways?” Leia hisses, obligingly backing away as he climbs in. Gabriel grins at her, and shapeshifts into a perfect copy of one of the palace dogs.

    Leia stares. Gabriel wags his tail. He’d prefer something a bit fluffier, but he’s not the one who bred the Alderaanian royal dog breed, so he doesn’t get much of a choice.

    Leia cautiously lays a hand on the top his head, now comfortably within her reach. Gabriel considers licking her, but even in dog shape that’s a little weird, with both of them knowing who he really is.

    “I thought you were human,” she whispers. Gabriel snorts and manages to look like he’s raising his eyebrows, or so he hopes. Leia casts another glance at the door, and then straightens.

    “Go to Chava,” she says. “I’ll be alright - I can lie if I need to. She’ll need someone with her.”

    Gabriel’s tempted to say, “If you say so,” but he’s displayed enough improbable talents for today. He glances at the window, and then stares at Leia.

    “What?” Leia says, and then, “Oh, she’s just next door. The other receiving room.”

    Gabriel grins, which is probably less reassuring in this shape, and turns into a very small bird to dart out the window and into the garden.

    The room Chava is in doesn’t have much in the way of windows, not to the degree that the other one did; but there _are_ windows, and two are cracked open.

    Chava spins around, but Gabriel’s not sure if she catches the whole of the transition from bird to his normal shape. He grins at her anyway. “‘Sup? Your sister said you could use some company.”

    Chava, admittedly, does look like someone doing her best to not look scared. Leia’s younger than Emi; Chava, younger than Leia, is maybe nine or ten. She looks like it, now.

    “They won’t let you stay,” she whispers miserably. “They’ll kick you out.”

    “They won’t notice,” Gabriel promises, and shifts back to the dog shape. Chava actually _jumps,_ staring in shock as Gabriel lies down on the floor, yawning and stretching. Man, so much shapeshifting within so little time is way more than he’s used to.

    Chava doesn’t have much time to be shocked, though, because there’s the tromp of feet in the hall. Chava squeaks; Gabriel raises his head.

    After a few moments, the door slides open and a bored-looking officer in an Imperial uniform strides in, accompanied by a Stormtrooper. The Stormtrooper does not have a gun, visibly at least, which is good, or else Gabriel might have been _really_ tempted to do something unwise.

    She’s also accompanied by a familiar droid.

    “Hello, Your Highness,” C-3PO says to Chava, in a bad attempt at cheerfulness.

    “Her Royal Highness, Chava Organa?” The officer asks, with a brusque, cursory nod of her head. She doesn’t bother to pronounce the ‘ch’ right.

    “Yes,” Chava says, still a little squeaky. She’s got a death grip on her skirt. There’s a chair right by the officer, who does not bother to sit in it.

    “I have some questions to ask you.”

    “It’s all quite routine, princess,” C-3PO says. “No need to worry!” Gabriel has an idea of why he was sent with this officer, who looks irritated at him. Familiar company helps with anything. Evidently, Bail had the same idea Gabriel did.

    The officer doesn’t seem to think that Chava actually is involved in anything; all of her questions seem rote, rattled off from the memory of someone who’s slightly bored. Still, Chava’s so nervous that Gabriel climbs up next to her to act as a distraction. At least it’s nothing too difficult - all the questions are more sneaky stuff that, answered ‘wrong’, could hint at rebel activity, but Chava knows little about affairs of state, much less what her parents might be up to behind closed doors or anything about rebel activity. She barely knows that there _is_ a Rebellion.

    “And why do you think there would be a Rebellion?” The officer asks.

    “I don’t?” Chava replies, fingers curling and digging into Gabriel’s head a little uncomfortably. “The Empire’s - good. People are happy.”

    That appears to be the right answer. The officer nods sharply again and says, “That will be all. Please wait here,” and turns and leaves with her Stormtrooper and C-3PO, who bids Chava a slightly giddy-sounding farewell.

    Chava sighs out a huge breath as soon as the door closes and hugs her knees close to her chest. That involves taking her hand off Gabriel, so Gabriel takes the opportunity to slip off the sofa and change back to his usual shape.

    “How do you do that?” Chava asks.

    “Secret,” Gabriel says. “Do you know where Emi went?”

    She shakes her head. “Dad will bring her back up to where we were, though.”

    “Good. Tell him I’ll be on my way, then.” Gabriel turns back into the tiny sparrowlike bird and darts outside again, to follow the progress of the Imperial convoy down the streets of Alderaan.

    Nothing untoward happens, but then again, it’s surrounded by Stormtroopers, and not all of them are going to leave. Most people are too scared to try anything untoward.

    Gabriel watches until they’re all on the ship and said ship is taking off, and then flies back towards the palace, invisible in the night. The palace is easy to find; it’s not nearly so subtle.

    Gabriel finds the same balcony he jumped off earlier, persuades the security cameras to look away or go mysteriously fuzzy, and lands on the railing, shifting back and jumping down to the floor in the same movement, just to be dramatic. The door slides open as he’s shaking his arms out, and Gabriel grins as he looks up, sliding a hand through his hair to slick it back again.

    “That’s an impressive talent,” Bail says. He only looks a little thoughtful, taking in all of Gabriel like there will be some clue in the line of Gabriel’s jacket that he missed before that would indicate his secret. If he saw Gabriel transform just now, it didn’t rattle him much; Leia and Chava must have already told their parents about it.

    “Are you _sure_ you can’t do that, too?” Chava asks Emi as Gabriel walks back in.

    “No,” Emi says, a little impatiently. “I’m adopted.”

    It’s the first time either of them has said it. Gabriel does not miss the various looks that get traded between the various Organas in attendance.

    “Well,” Breha says primly, so regally that Gabriel knows for sure she’s about to try to troll the fuck out of him, because he’s heard that tone of voice before and actually got strung along for several minutes, “ _that_ certainly seems like too much work for Shabbat,” and Gabriel loses it and cracks up.

    He doesn’t know that he’ll have far less occasion for laughter after that night.

    The Imperial presence on Alderaan is cranked up a notch. Gabriel had observed their parades before, tight-lipped, and tolerated the influx because there wasn’t much he could do without overplaying his hand, but this was the kind of thing he’d normally only see at the annual celebration of the official death of the Republic.

    The Emperor is turning up the heat on Alderaan, that much is for sure. To what specific end, Gabriel doesn’t know.

    What he does know is that this is a purposeful move. Likely nothing relating to the rebellion had been found - nothing implicating the royal family, at least. Several ‘friends’ of Gabriel’s have mysteriously vanished, assumed dead by everyone else in their group of acquaintances. People in those circles mourn quickly, by necessity; there are replacements, to fill the necessary roles, in under a week.

    Additionally, there is an unexpected celebration.

    “A what now?”

    “Haven’t you ever heard of a bat mitzvah before?” Leia looks unimpressed.

    “I thought you might’ve already had it,” Gabriel says. “How old are you, anyway?”

    “Eleven,” Leia says.

    “Isn’t this supposed to be when you’re thirteen?”

    “That’s for _boys,_ ” Leia says, with the vague disgust that only a preteen can muster for another gender. “Girls have theirs when we turn twelve.”

    “It’s in a few months,” Breha volunteers, “on her birthday. I thought you two would like to come.”

    Gabriel is saved from having to come up with an immediate answer by Chava, who asks Emi curiously, “Wouldn’t you have already had yours? You’re almost fifteen.”

    Emi shakes her head.

    “But it’s so fun!” Chava seems nearly aghast.

    “I don’t think I want one,” Emi says. “Besides, I’m too old now.”

    “Don’t bother her about it, Chava,” Breha says, chastising, before turning back to Gabriel. “I really would appreciate it if you’d come. Do you know, I actually imagined it might not be that much work? And yet I’ve already become entrenched in an arguments. Should she read from the Torah or not? Should we have it in a synagogue? Her birthday is at the end of the week; should we have it the day before or the day after?” She laughs. “Tradition, or respect for the royal family? Which takes precedence?”

    “I’ll take a pass on delving into that particular argument,” Gabriel says, grinning despite himself. What’s the harm? “But I’ll come, of course.” Of course.

    “What’s a bat mitzvah, anyway?” Emi asks, when they’re back home. Gabriel leans backwards to see out of the kitchen, but Emi’s lounging on the sofa and he can’t see her, much less make eye contact.

    “It’s a celebration. Leia’s becoming a woman.”

    “I thought that was when you got your period.”

    Gabriel cracks up. “A woman _within_ the religious community. Periods are more in the biological sense.” Although it’s not impossible for them to occur at the same time, probably. “It means she has more responsibilities and stuff. It might be different than for boys.”

    “Why?” Emi sits up to look at him over the back of the sofa.

    “The royal family’s very traditional. Girls aren’t generally supposed to lead the congregation like boys do during their bar mitzvahs.”

    “I thought it was a _bat_ mitzvah,” Emi says, frowning.

    “Another gendered thing. Bar for boys, bat for girls.”

    “That sounds stupid. The girls not being allowed to do stuff, I mean.”

    “Tradition’s tradition.” Gabriel shrugs. “It’s their business; we’re just guests.”

    “But _you_ used to be part of it.”

    “‘Used to’ is the key word there,” Gabriel says lightly. “I was involved, sure, but it’s not like _I_ ever had a bar mitzvah.”

    “Why not?” Emi rests her chin on the edge of the sofa, like she’s settling in for a story.

    “Doesn’t matter. It was ages ago.” Literally, maybe. How long is an age again? “Why so curious? You thinkin’ of changing your mind about having one of your own?”

    “No.” Emi flops down again. “I like Mehe and everyone else too much to switch to just one God.” She’s quiet for a minute. “Do you think they mind that I don’t really do anything for them?”

    “What, like offerings? Do you want to?” Gabriel doesn’t feel like he’s the best person to ask about this, being a part of a different pantheon, but it’s not like he doesn’t have experience with a variety of faiths.

    “I don’t know.”

    “I think one person’s religious crisis won’t matter that much in the long run,” Gabriel says. “But I really doubt they’ll mind you going to another religion’s celebration, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

    “I’m not _worried,_ ” Emi says. “I was just thinking.”

    “Well, do you want to go?”

    “Aren’t we already going?”

    “I can lie and say you’re sick.”

    “Don’t!” Emi sits up. “That would be so rude!”

    “I’ve never worried about that,” Gabriel laughs, leaning up against the doorframe that leads to the living room. “Seriously, though.”

    “I’ll go. I’m fine with going, really! I never said I wasn’t,” Emi huffs. “Why would you think I didn’t want to?”

    Gabriel shrugs. “Do you like Leia?”

    “What?” Emi stares at him like he’s gone mad. “She’s the _princess._ ”

    “I know that. I asked if you liked her. What you think of her in general will do, too.” Gabriel shrugs. “She’s a forceful kid.”

    “...Yeah, she’s kinda bossy,” Emi admits. “But I don’t dislike her for that. I don’t think. And that doesn’t mean I don’t want to go.”

    “I believe we’ve established that we’re both going,” Gabriel says dryly. “I only wondered. Satisfy an old man’s curiosity.”

    “You’re not old,” Emi scoffs.

    “By _my_ calendar, maybe.” Angels don’t have calendars, which is the only reason that’s true. Emi rolls her eyes at him, and reaches for her tablet, obviously losing interest in the conversation.

    They go to Leia’s bat mitzvah. The synagogue is recognizable, but not quite what Gabriel expected, somehow. He also manages to be _surprised_ when Bail hands him a kippah.

    “I can get you a bobby pin too, if you need one,” he says, looking amused at Gabriel’s expression of mild panic.

    “This is just a long con to get me to be more observant, isn’t it?” Gabriel accuses lightly, only half-joking.

    “If it works out that way, it’s a handy side effect.” Bail’s already holding a pin, the bastard, Gabriel thinks affectionately.

    He makes no move to take it for a moment. People are streaming around the two of them, moving to go inside, already properly dressed. He could maybe find a way around it - but this is Bail, asking him to wear it. He agreed to come here. And coincidentally - or perhaps ironically - the kippah in question is sky-blue with wings on the back half.

    Gabriel jams it on his head backwards and grins at Bail.

    “Still irreverent,” Bail sighs, just as affectionately as Gabriel had privately insulted him, and makes him stand still so he can put the pin in place.

    Idly, Gabriel wonders what his father would think of this. Approval? Amusement?

    ...It’s not like Gabriel will ever be able to ask him.

    Leia does read some texts, but not the Torah. She’s flushed with excitement (and probably nerves) through the whole thing, eyes shining. The royal family is resplendent, Breha wearing an elaborately embroidered headscarf specially for the occasion. Chava fidgets through the whole thing like she’s trying desperately to stay still, and failing, but luckily for her most people are paying attention to her sister.

    There’s a dinner afterwards, held in the palace, and Leia delivers a speech which, if Gabriel remembers correctly, is traditional. Judging by Bail and Breha’s fond-but-exasperated looks, it is also a good deal longer than it needs to be. Leia expounds on justice and the responsibility of the average person to do the right thing for a very long time, indeed.

    Gabriel waits until most of the guests have trickled home (Kao waves to him cheerfully on his way out) and until Emi threatens to actually expire from boredom and possibly exhaustion to give Leia the present he’d picked out for her.

    Leia brightens, apparently still enthused about getting gifts despite the multitude she’d already received, but she frowns when she opens it. “What is it?”

    “Open it.” It looks like a plain wooden box, but Leia obeys. There’s a tiny mirror on the inside, for what purpose God only knows, but there is very little space to actually put things. Leia notices the little mechanism on the side, and turns it.

    “Oh!” She says, when tinny notes play. “A music box!”

    “Very old-fashioned one, too,” Breha says, casting a curious look at Gabriel. “I don’t recognize the tune.”

    “Oh, it’s an old song I knew.” Gabriel shrugs. “I happened to know a guy who could make it.” Okay, so maybe he’d done some of it himself, but they don’t need to know that. It’s not like the song exists on Alderaan, anyway.

    Breha nudges Leia’s shoulder, pointedly.

    “Thank you,” Leia says, going back to listening to the music box before she finishes speaking.

    “You’re welcome.”

    It’s a bright spot, overall, in a load of Imperial bullcrap.

    Leia is twelve. He has seven years.

    He can wait.

    Two more of Gabriel’s rebel acquaintances vanish, dead or conveniently no longer there to arrest. Gabriel doesn’t know which, and neither do the rest of them. A Senatorial aide (not Kao’s) is found guilty of treason, which is code for ‘maybe actually a rebel or did something rude to an Imperial officer’. Gabriel runs infodrives he never knows the contents of, and maybe shoots a guy to save a man he’s seen all of twice, and attends more royal Shabbat dinners.

    Chava, two years younger than her sister, has her own bat mitzvah. Emi graduates from school a year later. As a present, she and Gabriel take a trip out to the temple again.

    It seems, somehow, more decrepit every time they visit, which in the last few years has not been often. The altar stands solidly in the same place; the seats have decayed into even more infestinimal scraps of dust.

    Emi places the lantern on the altar and switches it on. The dusty air gets brighter, and possibly dustier, or maybe they just couldn’t see all of the dirt they’d stirred up before.

    “It seems different,” Emi says, into the silence.

    “You’re different,” Gabriel replies. “Older, for one.”

    “...That must be it.”

    Gabriel leaves Emi alone to her introspection, with the promise that he won’t wander too far away for too long.

    The forest around the temple is as deep and dark as always. Gabriel can hear the rustle and faint, sparse calls of wildlife, but none of it is visible from where he stands on the steps.

    He walks away from the temple. His feet manage to find the paths he’d traced before, though again Gabriel detours around any bushes in the way. He’s not in the mood to get all scratched up, even if it would heal in an instant and he could fix any tears in his clothing.

    The feeling of being watched, too, hasn’t left, which at this point is just unnerving. Gabriel half expects Stormtroopers to jump out from behind trees, which is ridiculous, because he would have noticed them by now.

    If Mehe or any other god is watching, they don’t show themselves. After a little while, during which nothing happens, Gabriel goes back to the temple.

    “You’ve been involved in the rebellion, right?” Emi asks, as they sit on the steps.

    “What about it?” There’s no one listening here; it’s a good place to talk about it.

    “If I-”

    “No.” Gabriel knows how the sentence is going to end before Emi gets any farther.

    “I didn’t even say anything!” Emi scowls at him. “I’m of age, anyway. I could move out if I wanted to.”

    “Moving out and rebelling against Imperial authority are two different things.”

    “What if I want to?” Emi challenges him.

    “I don’t think my heart could handle it.”

    “ _Dad-_ ”

    “Emi, please.” Gabriel covers her hand with his. “For my sake. I don’t want you in danger.”

    “ _You’re_ in danger when you do it.”

    “Only if I get caught.”

    “ _So?_ ” Emi looked hurt. “I’m not allowed to make you worry? I worry about you!”

    “Emi, I have spent a very, very long time learning how to not get caught,” Gabriel says. “The shapeshifting doesn’t hurt. _You_ are quite literally barely out of school.”

    “I’m not saying I want to go shoot Stormtroopers,” Emi says. “I just want to do - _something._ ”

    “I get it,” Gabriel says. “I really do. But I think if I knew you were in constant danger I’d be constantly keeping an eye on you, and I figure you’re old enough to be sick of that by now.”

    Emi rolls her eyes. “I’m not sick of it. I’ve been doing stuff on my own since I was old enough to walk home from school by myself.”

    “And I have no doubt you’d hate to lose that warm, fuzzy feeling of personal independence. See? We agree.”

    “ _Dad._ Come on. You can’t force me to stay out of this just because you’re worried I’ll get hurt.” Emi turned to face him. “People are already getting hurt. Being afraid of getting hurt is a stupid excuse to not do something.”

    “I can’t be selfish?” Gabriel asks. He can tell he’s going to lose this argument, though; he’s rubbed off on her too much for her to let it go.

    “It’s not just about _me,_ though,” Emi says. “I’m not trying to put myself in danger.”

    “I know,” Gabriel sighs. “But it’s hard not to be, to do the right thing.” He looks up at her. “What did you have in mind?”

    Gabriel has heard rumors of outright warfare and rebellion on some planets, so Emi goes in the opposite direction (or as close as he can get to that) to ‘further her education’, and also to place herself conveniently to overhear any rumors. Maz Kenata might not be the biggest name in the galaxy, but her place is a popular layover site that gets a lot of traffic. Mostly from rebels, but even from the Empire, from time to time.

    Gabriel gives Emi a small blaster before she leaves, and a secure commlink to keep in touch. Leia accompanies her, going just a little farther - to Coruscant, to start her Senatorial internship.

    The apartment seems very empty, afterwards.

    Gabriel gets a couple of brief, easy jobs out of pure boredom. When Bail approaches him, a few weeks later, he says, “Please tell me you have something for me to do. It’s too damn quiet in here.”

    Bail has something for him to do. Bail keeps coming back, so he technically has a _lot_ of things for Gabriel to do.

    One day, years later, when Gabriel still feels put off by the quiet at home, Bail has a boring thing for him to do.

    “I need you to come with me to this meeting,” he says. “There’s - a situation that’s arisen. You may be needed.”

    “Sure,” Gabriel says, raising his eyebrows. That sounds like a Situation to him. “Where are we going?”

    “Yavin 4. If necessary, Scarif.”

    “Never heard of it.”

    “Imperial post. I’ll explain on the way.”

    Bail looks harried, so Gabriel shrugs as he stands up. “Works for me. Lead the way, your highness.” ‘Meeting’ sounds incredibly boring, even if it’s a secret rebel meeting with imminent chance of relocation, but Gabriel will live.

    He wonders, though, what could be on Scarif.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY NOW I HAVE STUFF TO SAY! AND YES THAT WAS A ROGUE ONE REFERENCE!
> 
> First off, you can pry Jewish Alderaan out of my cold dead hands. SECOND, I have done my best to portray their Jewishness as respectfully as possible (and researched stuff to make sure I was getting it right), but if you've got a bone to pick with me over something feel free to leave a comment and let me know. And yes, [all those jokes about tradition were on purpose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6nwj8nAYEM4).
> 
> I figure, being the royal family, the Organas are Orthodox Jewish, which was a bit of a problem when the bat mitzvah thing came up, because generally Orthodox girls don't have them. But I figure, it's space-age, Breha's already head of the house - if it's changed that much, I think the royal family could get a bat mitzvah if they wanted it. 
> 
> Leia's music box - the gift from Gabriel - plays 'Ma Navu'. Most other stuff is easily Google-able!
> 
> Chava is my own invention, but hey, why not? I mention that she resembles Breha b/c my own canon for this is that Chava is the daughter of some kind of cousin who for whatever reason couldn't take care of her on her own. 
> 
> And Gabriel once again is out here just. Relentlessly adopting new family members. He can't be stopped. That picture at the end is him, btw - the face is not so detailed b/c I was focusing more on the clothes, just for fun. There will be more art in the next chapter, too!
> 
> Comment, please!


	5. Original Trilogy pt2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I RETURN! And it's looking like the OT is going to be _three_ parts, not two. This one's about 10 pages longer than the first part, and I only got up to the end of A New Hope. But hey, we've got all of Rogue One and some Death Star shenanigans, which is pretty good!
> 
> Tbh, half the reason this is so long is because I threw in a bunch of stuff that didn't necessarily happen in the movies, but I feel like it's pretty accurate to Gabriel and the other characters. And hey, I liked it, so you'll probably like it. 
> 
> Also, I have some BIG stuff to tell you about! I've done some fiddly changes to the last chapter that will carry over to this one, up to and including not only art but some neat fancy font for when characters speak Enochian. That's also been edited into the last chapter. I'd love to hear feedback on that, mostly because I'm not 100% sure how readable it is, so I might change it to another style if it's incomprehensible.
> 
> That's all I can think of to say, so have fun! I've done my best to stick to the movie plot of Rogue One without rehashing the entire thing - and either way, Gabriel changes a fair few things :)

    Yavin IV is exactly like in the movies.

    The whole planet is choked in a thick, humid jungle. Fog hangs heavily in the air outside their ship, and everything is green, green, green. There are monumental temple-like buildings with low, thin openings that issue and take in a constant stream of people. Cables and vines tangle and trail on the walls and hang from the ceilings, and inside hangars echo with movement and X-wings loom, managing to lurk in the shadows despite their size.

    Gabriel loves it.

    He lurks a little himself, just behind Bail as they gather around a table. There’s a woman in white who looks important, and what appears to be a wealth of other secret supporters of the Rebellion - Gabriel doesn’t recognize any of them, but they’re here, which is a point in their favor. There’s also a dark-haired woman who looks much less official and a little frantic; he doesn’t recognize her either. They’re all speaking Basic, but that’s alright; Gabriel’s picked it up by now.

    It turns out the meeting is about the Death Star. More specifically, whether or not to steal the plans to it in the hopes of finding a weakness.

    Gabriel’s internal countdown clock hits zero.

    He knows what this meeting is going to decide on - he ignores the arguing and focuses on the people. The room is crowded fifteen deep with pilots in orange uniforms, or techs, or other rebel staffers maybe accompanying the other officials; he watches the dark-haired one, who the lady in white calls Jyn Erso. She’s not the only frantic one; the man behind her, wearing safety goggles for some unfathomable reason, is wide-eyed and a little twitchy, like he’s expecting to be arrested.

    Maybe he’s just nervous. Maybe it has something to do with the Imperial patch on his shoulder, which is drooping and nearly falling off from having the stitches holding it in place cut.

    Interesting.

    Gabriel’s attention only switches back to the meeting when they decide _not_ to go after the Death Star plans.

    Um, _what?_ Hold _everything._ What happened to the band of brave rebels who risk everything to steal the plans? How the hell do they get them, if not now? Gabriel _knows_ it happens.

    Has something gone wrong?

Gabriel waits until Bail’s not paying attention - he doesn’t have to wait long - and slips off after Jyn Erso and the twitchy one.

    Before they get to wherever they’re going, they attract a lot of subtle looks and whispers. A lot of people call the twitchy one ‘the pilot’, muttering meaningfully to their friends. Jyn and ‘the pilot’ spend a lot of time talking angrily - well, more like Jyn talks and ‘the pilot’ nervously agrees. Soon enough, though, they’re approached by a rather large crowd. Gabriel raises his eyebrows, and sneaks a little closer to listen in.

    The captain - Jyn calls him ‘Cassian’ - proposes an interesting plan. Gabriel supposes that in a base full of rebels, it really shouldn’t be strange for a small group to go haring off doing their own thing. Even if it’s partially motivated by the urge to atone for whatever the hell they’ve done _for_ the rebellion.

    Their internal moral struggles don’t concern him; their mission does.

    It’s very easy to climb aboard the ship with them. They’re not hurting for room. Gabriel ends up near the door, just below the cockpit. From inside, there’s a bit of a scuffle going on. Gabriel can hear a tinny voice over a speaker demanding to know why they’re trying to take off, and who are they anyway? What’s their designation?

    “...Rogue,” the twitchy one says after a moment. “Rogue one.”

    Curious, Gabriel looks for his name. He gets flashes, from the twitchy one’s mind - _sand fear Empire wrongwrongwrong Galen -_ and learns that his name is Bodhi Rook.

    The ship thrums underneath them; Gabriel hears the wings levering up into position, sees the planet fall away below.

    “You’re not a rebel,” someone says behind him.

    Gabriel turns around. Only one person is looking at him; two, once the taller one behind the first turns around. The first has robes, or at least a robe-ish skirt thing in bright red with a tough kind of armor on top, and sand in every fold and seam. He leans on a staff, and has eyes webbed over with cataracts, or something like it. The one behind him with longer hair is wearing his weight in armor and a _very_ large gun. His gaze, directed at Gabriel, is mildly confused and distinctly grumpy.

    “Why would I be here if I wasn’t?” Gabriel asks. The pilot Bodhi and captain Cassian are busy in the cockpit, but Jyn Erso and a very tall droid (also with an Imperial stamp, interestingly enough) are at loose ends, evidently, and are looking too. The other rebels are listening in for lack of anything better to do.

    “I mean you are not from the Yavin base,” the blind one says. Gabriel glances around; everyone else is wearing dull colors and/or a military uniform. Jyn Erso is wearing brown, worn stuff; it looks like she hasn’t changed her outfit in ten years. He looks down at his own brightly colored, neat, obviously Alderaanian clothing.

    “Well,” he says, “I definitely got on this ship there.”

    “You were with that man,” Jyn says. “At the meeting. The one in green.”

    “In green...? The Alderaanian one?” The heavily armored one asks. Gabriel looks for his name; it’s Baze. The other is Chirrut, and giving Gabriel a look so intense Gabriel would swear he’s noticed Gabriel’s mental sneaking.

    “The _king?_ ” The droid asks disbelievingly. “You were with the king?”

    “Is that so hard to believe?” Gabriel retorts.

    “What are you doing here, then?” Jyn asks.

    “What’s going on down there?” Cassian questions sharply from the cockpit.

    “A stowaway from base,” the droid says. Gabriel begins to object to ‘stowaway’, but the droid steamrollers on. “He’s from Alderaan.” Gabriel doesn’t correct him.

    “Alderaanian? What’s he want?”

    “I know where this ship is going and what you’re doing,” Gabriel says loudly. “I’m not stupid, and I know a good cause when I see it.” And if he’s maybe a little personally invested in Alderaan not being destroyed, nobody has to be told that.

    “Are you armed?” Baze asks. He snorts when Gabriel pulls out the little blaster he keeps. “That won’t let you last a minute.”

    “I only need to use it once,” Gabriel says. “After that I figure I’ll pick something better up from whoever I shot.”

    That gets him a much more penetrating look from Chirrut; surprising, from a blind man. Gabriel meets it evenly, wondering how long a staring contest between the two of them would last before they were interrupted. Eventually, though, Chirrut nods as though he’s decided something for himself, and - well, he doesn’t look away, but his attention clearly drifts to other matters.

    Gabriel is intrigued, even more so than he was before.

    There’s surprisingly little issue getting to the planet and getting in - Bodhi can fake his way (surprisingly) through the shield that surrounds the planet, and once they’ve made planetfall the captain comes out and talks very seriously to the troops, which Gabriel ignores. He’s not interested in whatever plan they have - well, yes, he is, but he doesn’t need to know the details to be able to follow whoever’s going to get the plans themselves.

    Cassian and Jyn obtain disguises and sneak in with the droid, who they call ‘Kay’; the rest of the rebels prepare themselves, and wait.

    Gabriel makes himself unnoticeable and follows the first two.

    The Imperial base is full of fairly terrible people, but Gabriel’s not really surprised by that, only glad; it makes it easier to follow Jyn and Cassian, since they’re easy to pick out despite their stolen uniforms. ‘Easy’ maybe isn’t the right word - their souls are definitely not the blinding shade Gabriel has seen in some people. Nevertheless, they’re brighter and less tarnished than anyone else’s in the building.

    Neither Jyn nor Cassian notice him; Kay, mechanical and not as easy to fool, is too intent on their mission, luckily for him. No Imperial officer sees anything, except the guy whose drink Gabriel knocks over for funsies, and if anything he blames it on the first trooper walking past within blame-able distance.

    There is a vault; Gabriel slips in behind Cassian and Jyn, when they get it open. They spend a worrying amount of time just trying to find the right file. The vault door shuts on them, and there are shots from outside. They spend an irritating amount of time worrying and not concentrating on getting the file, and then Kay starts yelling at them over their little radio things. Gabriel leaves, just to see what the hell is going on. And also to stop himself from cutting out the middleman and just grabbing the plans himself and getting them back to the Yavin IV base. He can’t overplay his hand, here.

    Shooting is going on. There are a variety of people in Imperial uniforms trying to kill Kay. Gabriel has maybe waited a _little_ too long, because Kay locks the vault shut the moment Gabriel comes out, and spends the next moment dying.

    Gabriel sighs, and snaps his fingers. The shooters and Imperial officers collapse in varying degrees of unconsciousness; some of them will wake up again, some won’t. Gabriel snaps again, and Kay sparks a little as wires rejoin. Pieces skid across the floor hastily and reassemble themselves.

    Gabriel waits until the droid’s eyes blink back to life, to make sure he’s done it right, and then puts a hand on Kay’s forehead and presses him back down when he tries to stand. “I’m gonna need you to stay down and probably forget what just happened.” If Kay were human, he might call it unconsciousness; as it is, he really just turns the droid off.

    He _means_ to go back inside, but one of the trooper’s radios crackles, and a voice comes on. “ _Get outside immediately! We’re scrambling the fleet. These rebels must not be allowed to leave or succeed!_ ”

    It’s the ‘leave’ that really gets Gabriel.

    He stretches his hands out, cracks his knuckles, and goes outside.

    Technically, he goes to a balcony. It’s chaos everywhere. Smoke trails from explosions, TIE fighters screech in pursuit of tiny figures on Scarif’s beaches. It would be a nice place, if it weren’t currently hosting the Star Wars version of the D-Day invasion.

    Gabriel jumps off the balcony. He shifts mid-jump, thinking _big,_ thinking _winged._

Seriously, though. What pilot will expect to be attacked by a giant bird?

    He’s thinking _hawk_ and then goes for falcon and ends up somewhere in the middle. It doesn’t matter. His new talons rip through TIE fighter wings just the same. 

    The ship goes veering off, trailing smoke. Gabriel pushes off and heads for another one. He can hear frenzied radio chatter in his periphery. There’s a lot of screaming. There’s also a lot of confused rebel yelling from other places. Gabriel concentrates on breaking through the glass window of the fighter he’s currently clinging onto and pulling the pilot out of their seat.

    Gabriel wreaks merry havoc like that for, oh, who knows how long. Not that long. He gets good at finding positions that make it impossible for whatever pilot he’s antagonizing to shoot him. There’s a lot of blaster fire aimed his way nonetheless. There are rebel fighters mixed into it, too, but they realize quick he’s not after them. Luckily for him.

    Someone gets a good hit in, near his chest. Gabriel decides to play dead and aims himself at the beach where he can tell Chirrut and Baze are clustered with a bunch of other rebels.

    He shifts back a little too early and hits the edge of a low building hard. Gabriel lets himself bounce off and falls to the ground, faking pain. He grins at the guy who rushes over to check on him. He must look a little unnerving, because the guy immediately takes a step back. Still, he gets hauled into the relative safety inside, where the rest of them are hiding from blaster fire.

    “ _You?_ ” Baze demands. “That was you?” Gabriel does not blame him for the edge of disbelief in his voice.

    “There is something very strange about you,” Chirrut says, looking about a foot to the left of Gabriel, tone way too mild for a guy sitting in what barely qualifies as shelter in the middle of a warzone.

    “Been told that before,” Gabriel says. He looks down and discovers there’s blood smeared on his sleeve. It’s not his, but the soldiers don’t know that. No wonder they look so unnerved by his cheerfulness.

    He pulls himself away and out of their notice - there are people way more injured than he is. It’s an easy bar to step over, seeing as he’s not hurt at all. They’re all pretending they’re fine, as far as Gabriel can see.

    Someone’s radio crackles. A rebel with cropped-short hair coughs and answers, and then says,

    “We need to get to the master switch.”

   “What switch?” Gabriel looks towards said console. There’s a lot of switches. On the other end of the radio he can hear Bodhi, who sounds about a second away from tearing his hair out in frustration, pleading for them to get to the switch.

    “That switch.” The rebel - Gabriel gets the impression of a name - Melshi? -  points to a control unit about twenty feet away, _way_ too far away from their lines. “Fat chance of us getting to it without getting shot, unless anyone’s got a good plan.”

    Gabriel cracks his knuckles again - he thought he’d broken something in one hand, clawing at those TIE fighters, but whatever it was has fixed itself by now - and says, “Don’t let anyone on our side shoot me.”

    “What do you m-”

    Gabriel rushes back outside. He scrapes the wrist of his wing on the edge of the door on the way out. His feet leave the ground and don’t touch it again. One talon trips the switch as he passes, and then he’s rushing the approaching AT-ATs. They aren’t _nearly_ quick enough to get out of his way.

    The sky is a mess of fighters shooting at each other. They’re exploding all over the place. The shield that they snuck in through is standing strong, shut tight, but there are rebels inside nevertheless.

     It looks like more TIE fighters downed than rebel ships, but there are more Imperial forces to begin with. Gabriel shoves one broken fighter into another and they both go down. He’s almost blinded by someone shooting at his head. Gabriel stabs his beak forward to deal with _that_. He gets a little blood and broken glass from the cockpit on the end of it. He shakes the glass off and moves on.

    But there’s still a battle going on. Gabriel plunges down and gets back to work.

    The air around him is thick with radio signals, everyone talking rapidly to their leaders and friends. There’s a faint but irritating screech of feedback every time Gabriel crushes a radio or comm unit along with a TIE fighter, so he gets careful about where he aims. Ripping the wings off seems to work well in terms of destabilization.

    But then there’s the low _chnk_ of the dish at the top of the tower settling into place. It sends a prickly fissure of static through all of it, Imperial and rebel alike. Gabriel looks up, and sees a tiny figure on the roof.

    He’s pretty sure there was not a ladder in the vault when he’d left Jyn Erso there, much less one leading straight to the roof, but there she is.

    Gabriel intercepts anyone heading for the tower roof. There are a lot of trigger-happy passers-by to amuse himself with. Gabriel smashes one against the side of the tower, sweeps two away with a fierce gust of air from his wings. Then there’s an almost ear-splitting shriek on a frequency inaudible to humans but incredibly annoying to Gabriel, and a fuzzy burst of cheering, distant, from the rebels on the other side of the now-broken planetary shield that’s splintering even further, revealing stars beyond the planet’s atmosphere.

    It would be beautiful, maybe, without all the explosions in the way.

    Sounds like they got the job done.

    Cassian has a blaster trained on him as soon as Gabriel gets within sight of the roof. He’s limping; it looks like Jyn is the only thing holding him up. Gabriel would smile if he could. He circles around dizzyingly high above until Cassian blinks, and then swoops down to grab the two of them. They’re injured (he can feel blood leaking onto him) but very wriggly.

    Gabriel makes sure to pin Cassian’s arms to his sides; he’s not in the mood to get shot, or explain how he can survive it.

    They land on the beach in a tumble of limbs. Gabriel actually drops the two of them a couple feet off the ground and then lands in his usual shape. Cassian gets the blaster pointed at him again in a surprisingly short amount of time, then blinks and lowers it in shock.

    “ _You,_ ” Jyn says faintly. They’re all covered in sand and bloody, but they’ve got time for shock. Gabriel takes stock of himself (his pants have ripped over the knee at some point) and wipes the blood off his face.

    The disadvantage of shapeshifting is that one ends up with things in strange places after changing back. Jyn and Cassian’s blood is soaking into his socks from how he’d carried them. Gabriel's tempted to cut off the nerves in his foot - it feels disgusting.

    Jyn and Cassian's shock doesn’t seem to last long. Both of their gazes have moved to something behind him and changed, becoming more fearful and almost resigned. Gabriel turns around and looks up.

    It takes him a minute to realize what he’s seeing. In person, it’s really something else to see the Death Star looming above the planet one is currently on.

    “God _fucking_ damnit,” Gabriel says.

    If it’s here, _now -_ Scarif is an Imperial base, but they’ve already lost the plans. If anyone was going to fire on their own base, it would be the Empire.

    Gabriel uses his _other_ wings and flees the planet, straight onto the Death Star.

    He doesn’t have time to worry about Jyn and Cassian seeing him vanish, or anything else he’s going to have to explain. _Not one more rebel_ is going to die on Scarif today, not if he can help it, and goddamn, Leia turned nineteen yesterday and he didn’t realize because she’s still on Coruscant.

    _If_ she’s still on Coruscant. How soon after obtaining the plans does Darth Vader catch up with her? How soon will she trapped and tortured? Gabriel gets furious just thinking about it, but he forces himself to calm down.

    The hum of the generator he’s found himself next to doesn’t really help. Gabriel turns it off with an irritable snap, and then gets an idea.

    They can’t fire if the battle station doesn’t work, can they?

    It takes him about three seconds. There is a humming network of energy, and all he has to do is follow it to the source. Gabriel pries a crystal out of its casing, sets off about ten different alarms simultaneously, and escapes to a less populated area where he can hide without needing to worry about being accidentally stumbled across. _After_ turning the generator off completely, of course.

    Inside the nearest storage closet, he considers the crystal. The Jedi used crystals in their lightsabers, didn’t they? It wasn’t Darth Vader who designed this station - he’s pretty sure - but an energy source is an energy source.

    Gabriel tucks it into his pocket, and makes sure to remember the crystal generator’s location.

    He lurks in the bowels of the Death Star for several hours, reaching out and listening hard to try and catch any rebel radio frequencies, but there are none - none close enough to hear, anyway. That’s good. It means the fleet’s gotten away.

At the tail end of what feels like the day (he’s still keeping a haphazard track of time with the Alderaan solar calendar) the Death Star moves.

    To where, he doesn’t know.

    It better not be Alderaan.

    Gabriel creeps out of hiding, invisibly, and starts looking around for something to do.

    The squeaky little box robots that clean the floor avoid him, but no one pays close enough attention to them for that to be a problem. Gabriel overhears stormtrooper gossip about a hundred different things, avoids being run into about ten times, and has a lot of free time to think.

    He _could_ blow it up here and now. It wouldn’t be hard. But he’d have to explain not only how he got onboard so quickly, but how he got _off_ before it blew. He could lie, probably, but Breha would notice. And if she didn’t, he’d feel bad about it, which is a somewhat novel experience that he’d rather not deal with.

    There’s the question, too, of how much he should interfere. Obviously he’s not going to let them blow up Alderaan. But how far is too far? How much might compromise the original train of events? He doesn’t know shit about what was going on in the background. George Lucas probably didn’t know, either. But it _is_ happening, and he can’t accidentally mess something up.

    Darth Vader’s on this station too, somewhere, or if he isn’t he’s going to be. Much as Gabriel would like to, if he kills the guy now, he doesn’t know what’s going to happen afterwards. And hey, the guy got his redemption right at the end. It would be a shame to take that away from him.

    ...Where the hell is Luke Skywalker right now, anyway?

    Gabriel shrugs and puts that question aside. The kid’ll probably show up eventually.

    He steals three more of the crystals, over the course of the next day. The atmosphere inside gets increasingly tense, and Gabriel can tell whoever’s at the top is taking it out on everybody else. Troopers and even officers scuttle around, trying too hard to act normally. The officers snap at everybody under them. One kicks at one of the cleaning droids, which Gabriel ensures sends an unpleasant shock through his foot.

    Gabriel works his way up through the ranks, pulling unpleasant tricks that get worse the more unpleasant the person is. Petty officers’ files go missing, drinks go cold, their boss’s clothes get ruined. Larger things like mission files and ship parts go missing and show up hours later. Flight schedules are rearranged into total nonsense. Gabriel traces name-drops and barked orders to report to superior officers until he ends up at the very top of the food chain.

    Moff Tarkin inadvertently leading Gabriel straight to his personal quarters is the gift Gabriel didn’t even know he wanted.

    Just wrecking his quarters is enough to send the guy into a huge tantrum. Gabriel watches, invisibly gleeful, as the guy screams himself hoarse, demanding to know who did it. There’s a vein standing out on his forehead. He’s so old Gabriel thinks he could probably work himself up enough to just drop dead there and then.

    One can always hope.

    Tarkin is still in a foul mood when a cringing petty officer inches up to him and says, “Sir, Lord Vader has sent a message saying he’s found the ship with the plans.”

    Gabriel’s smile immediately dies.

    The ship, when Gabriel sneaks along behind Tarkin to the bay, is heavily guarded. Darth Vader storms off the ship in a whirl of black; behind him, in her formal white dress - oh Leia, you _child,_ did she come straight from Coruscant? - is Leia, pale but head held high, escorted by six stormtroopers. The blocky cuffs look too big on her.

Gabriel goes down a floor so he’s on the same level and peers around the edge of the door. Stormtroopers keep marching on and off the ship, no doubt looking for the plans; there is a line of human-ish shapes under black cloth, in a neat row by the loading ramp.

    Gabriel sees red, for a moment. He’d _known_ those men. The pilot was Bail’s cousin, Kao’s brother. How _dare_ they.

    He still has his little blaster.

    The security cameras all get turned away from where Gabriel is going to be, and mysteriously stuck that way. There are not many stormtroopers in the bay, and Tarkin left when Leia was escorted out. This will not take long.

    The stormtroopers look up curiously when all the doors slide shut. This bay has no station overlooking it - it’s off to the side, no doubt used now because the Empire wanted to keep their kidnapping secret. They assume cameras and troopers will be enough.

    “Hey,” Gabriel says, and shoots the first one who goes for their gun when they see him. There are only three of them outside the ship. It’s not hard to hit them all, fast enough that there’s no time to return fire.

    Gabriel ducks under the loading ramp; a moment later it shudders under the tromp of boots. The stormtroopers run for the doors and discover that they do not open; a moment later they also discover that their helmet comms don’t work, either.

    Gabriel shoots the two at the door. He grabs the muzzle of the gun another brandishes as they check under the ramp, and then shoots them, too.

    He can tell there are seven more, inside. The majority left to protect Tarkin or guard Leia. It’ll be close-quarters fighting, inside the ship.

    He still hasn’t cleaned the blood off his jacket from Scarif. It had dried long ago, and wasn’t uncomfortable enough to merit his attention. It will bother them more than him.

    Gabriel boards the ship.

    He makes his footsteps sound like stormtrooper boots, plasticky and harsh against the smooth floors of the ship. Two of the troopers don’t manage to turn around before he gets them. The third and fourth do: the fifth is absent.

    Gabriel finds her trying to force her way into the cockpit.

    “I’ll thank you not to do that,” he says. She spins around, takes in his blaster and the blood on his jacket, and the rip at his knee that Gabriel only remembers then.

    “Hostile on appropriated ship, Bay 14-Q-44!” She snaps off, evidently speaking into her comm. Gabriel politely gives her a moment to realize it’s not working. She goes for her gun - he shoots the wall right in between her hand and the holster, making her freeze.

    “I’ve shot ten of you already,” he says. “It would really make my day better if I didn’t have to make it eleven.” Contrary to what a certain pair of hunters may think, he doesn’t enjoy this.

    “The Empire does not negotiate,” she says nastily, and goes for her gun again. This time, Gabriel aims at her chest when he shoots.

    He steps forward, and does her the dignity of using his own hands instead of Grace to haul her body out of the way. Then he knocks, lightly, on the closed cockpit door. There were seven people inside, after all, and he’d only seen five stormtroopers.

    “Who’s there?” A voice calls warily.

    “Captain Antilles, I presume?” Gabriel asks in Alda. The _worst_ part of everything is that there’s nobody to get his jokes. Even the bad ones that nobody but history nerds would get. But he’s under pressure right now, he can hardly come up with comedy gold.

    “Who’s there?” The captain repeats warily, this time in the same language.

    “You mind opening the door? No stormtroopers out here, I promise. I jammed the bay doors shut, so no reinforcements either.”

    Through the tiny gap between the door and the wall that the trooper managed to pry open, Gabriel sees a wary eye peer.

    “ _Gabriel?_ ” He asks after a moment, sounding skeptical.

    “Have we met?” Gabriel knows _of_ him, but he doesn’t think he recognizes the man.

    “You were at Leia’s bat mitzvah.”

    “So I was. Must have missed you. The door?” Gabriel presses.

    “I broke the control panel,” the captain admits, apparently satisfied that Gabriel is not an Imperial official of any kind. “Can’t do shit to it now except what that buckethead was trying. I’ve got an injured man in here with me, too. What happened to _you?_ ”

    “Scarif,” Gabriel says, looking around for something he could reasonably pretend to use as a lever. “Hold on one sec. There’s a lever over here, red handle. Are there gonna be problems if it’s removed?”

    “Problems?” The captain asks incredulously. “Exactly what are you planning?”

    “I need you to have this ship ready for takeoff when I get back with the princess.”

    “ _Excuse me?_ ”

    “We _all_ need to get out of here, if I can take the goddamn bodies with us I will,” Gabriel snaps. “Is this ship in working order or not?”

    “...I might be able to do something,” the captain says, still staring out at Gabriel with one shocked eye. “There should be a medkit in this ship still if it hasn’t been hauled off for HaShem-knows-what reason. I need that. Don’t touch anything else.”

    Gabriel finds him the medkit. It’s difficult to squeeze it through the gap in the door, but he manages it.

    “I need at least an hour,” the captain says. “I don’t know how the hell we’ll manage that. Bail’s going crazy looking for you, you know. He even risked calling _us._ He’s half convinced you died on Scarif.”

    “I was a little too busy to call him,” Gabriel replies. “The ship looks pretty beat up, but as far as I can tell nothing important is broken.”

    “That’s something. How the hell did you get in here, anyway?”

    “Killed the guards.”

    “I mean onto the Death Star.”

    Gabriel hesitates, for a moment. “You wanna know the truth?”

    “...That’s why I asked.” The captain sounds a little confused.

    “Ask me again later. I don’t wanna have to repeat the story to everyone.” Gabriel stands up. “I’ll do my best to give you an hour, but I’m gonna have to rush to get the princess. Who knows what they’re doing with her.” Other than him, that is. If they’re already up there with the torture droid, Gabriel’s gonna beat whoever’s doing it within an inch of their life.

    “I don’t know what you’re planning, but good luck.”

    Gabriel nods, and leaves.

    A more ordinary person might have scavenged some stormtrooper armor. Gabriel pulls the dead rebel crewmembers onboard, leaves the stormtroopers somewhere not easily visible, and heads for the cell blocks.

    One is a little more heavily guarded than usual; the rest have just one guard on duty, but there’s two in one that’s way down in the sublevels. That screams high-risk prisoners. Gabriel lingers in the hallway leading up to it until he’s done fiddling with the cameras, and then makes a noise out by the main corridor, loud and clatter-y like a stormtrooper collapsing. The guards exchange a look, then one races off, right past him without a clue.

    The remaining one gasps when Gabriel shoves his blaster into the vulnerable area just under his chin. Gabriel knows what he’s doing; his gun arm is keeping the guard’s right pinned out of reach of his holster, and he twists the left arm behind the guard’s back.

    “I’ll make this simple,” Gabriel breathes, in Basic. “Where’s the princess?”

    “You’ll never-” The guard’s venomous retort dissolves into a cry of pain as Gabriel twists his arm even farther. Gabriel’s ensured any noise they make doesn’t go past the guard room.

    “I’m already here,” Gabriel points out, keeping his volume low nevertheless. Might as well make it realistic. “I could always shoot you and wait for your partner to come back.” That will take a while, considering the surprise Gabriel’s laid for him at the other end.

    The guard struggles fruitlessly for a few moments, nearly breaking his own wrist in Gabriel’s iron grip before going still. Suspiciously still.

    Gabriel anticipates his attempt at a surprise attack and thumps his head down on the edge of the control panel - lightly. It’s still enough to dizzy him.

    “Where’s the princess?” Gabriel hisses. The guard doesn’t respond, but this time the radio speaker on the control panel crackles to life.

    _“Block AA-23, be advised that Lord Vader is coming to speak to the prisoner. An IT-O droid will be accompanying. Is cell 2187 still correct or has she been moved? Over.”_

“What is that?” Gabriel demands, jamming his blaster into the guard’s chin uncomfortably. “What kind of droid is that?”

    The guard starts laughing, a pathetic, choked sound. “She’ll never keep your rebellion’s secrets once _that_ gets in there-”

    Gabriel snaps his neck before he can finish.

    “ _Block AA-23?”_ The voice on the radio questions. “ _Block AA-23, are you there?_ ”

    Gabriel resists the desire to shoot the radio - it’ll set off more alarms and end with a bunch of people coming down to the cells a lot faster, and he doesn’t have time to waste. He kicks the guard’s fallen body aside and vaults over the control panel, and heads for cell 2187.

    He has to practically rip the door open - he doesn’t have the code to open it but whatever, he gets it open, and Leia looks up and shoots to her feet.

    “Gabriel! But-”

    “Shhh,” Gabriel warns, but he hugs her tight - she looks like she could use it. Leia buries her face in his shoulder, but only for a moment.

    “How are you-” Leia pulls away.

    “Questions later,” Gabriel says quickly, automatically switching back to Alda. He likes speaking it, and they’re less likely to be understood if the situation goes south. “We need to go, Vader’s on his way down here and I don’t know how fast he’s moving.”

    Leia goes a little paler, but nods decisively. They practically sprint out of the detention block; first, though, Gabriel stops to scavenge a blaster from the dead guard and give it to Leia. The other guard has probably returned and run back out for reinforcements; either way, he’s not there when they leave.

Gabriel wishes he knew how to block a Force-signature, because if _he_ can notice Leia’s then a certain ex-Skywalker probably can, too. He settles for figuring out where Vader is, and going the opposite way. They’re going to have to go the long way ‘round to the bay with Leia’s ship, and they’ve only got twenty or so minutes before captain Antilles is ready.

    “Have you been here the whole time?” Leia hisses, not unkindly, under her breath as they creep along through the Death Star. Gabriel has amassed a veritably encyclopedic knowledge of the least-used areas of the station. “Dad called me trying to figure out what had happened to you.”

    “So I’ve heard,” Gabriel mutters, peering around a corner. “Is now really the time for this?”

    “You’re _bleeding._ ”

    Gabriel glances down at his bloody sleeve. He really needs to clean that at some point. “That’s not mine.”

    Leia doesn’t answer, because they both press themselves against the wall and out of sight as a quartet of stormtroopers pass. Once their backs are to the two of them, Gabriel pulls Leia forward and they both take off as silently as possible. The regularity of patrols in the less-frequented areas is _really_ handy sometimes.

    “What about the cameras?” Leia pants, as they stop behind a couple of shipping crates, stacked in a way that creates a tiny, invisible corner.

    Gabriel wiggles his fingers. “I think you’ll find that they’re always conveniently pointed the wrong way.” Let her assume it’s the Force, if Bail’s even told her about that. Gabriel doesn’t know how far his cover story has been spread - Bail’s a cautious man. Luckily she doesn’t ask about the mysteriously low number of guards they’ve encountered, and said guards’ near-ridiculous inability to notice them.

    “What about-”

    “Just trust me, okay?”

    Leia looks nervous and skeptical, but nods.

    “Come on,” Gabriel says, and they keep moving.

    It takes fifteen of their twenty minutes to get close enough that Gabriel feels safe stopping behind another pile of conveniently-stacked crates. Leia by then is clutching the blaster hard enough that her knuckles are white.

    “The bay’s pretty close, from here,” Gabriel whispers to her, keeping one eye out for any surprise patrols. “Once you’re inside you’ll be fine.” If they can get in, that is. Gabriel glances up. “Are you opposed to going through the air ducts?”

    “And you’ll come with me?”

    “In a minute.” Leia’s outraged look makes Gabriel preemptively shush her. “Don’t yell! I need to turn off their tractor beam thingy or we’ll just get dragged straight back in here. Half the crew is dead already.” ‘Half’ is an understatement.

    Leia’s outrage fades into a sick kind of fear when he mentions who’s been killed, but she breathes in deeply and hides it behind a calmer facade. Gabriel guesses three years in Coruscant taught her that, and his heart twists a little in mixed sympathy and pity.

    “You should be ready to take off in just a few minutes,” Gabriel says quietly, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

    “Then come back quick,” Leia says testily, still quiet. “And if you don’t I’m going to tell Emi you stayed behind on purpose.”

    “I’m not planning on staying behind,” Gabriel lies. “You don’t need to threaten me.”

    “Good.”

    Gabriel gives her a boost up to the air duct, after checking to make sure they can’t be seen - the shipping crates block her from view for all but the last foot of space, and she scrambles inside the shaft quickly. Gabriel waits until he hears the clatter of the grate on the other end - inside the bay with her ship - being removed, and then heads off.

    He actually remembers what the tractor beam generators are supposed to look like, from the movies. Even better, he’s passed one or two before, and can guess where the rest are - the Death Star has a pretty rigidly symmetrical layout.

    He doesn’t know which ones activate the beam closest to the bay he just helped Leia sneak into, so Gabriel mentally shrugs and heads for the nearest one.

    He also turns off the one just past that one, meaning to meander down to the center and grab some more of those crystals, but the plan develops a huge and immediate flaw in the form of Darth Vader.

    Gabriel immediately ducks out of the way, making himself completely unnoticeable. Vader, however, still stops. The mask makes it impossible to read his expression.

    “Lord Vader?” One of the uniformed underlings trailing behind him questions nervously. Gabriel can’t tell if they’re taking his orders or keeping an eye on him. “Is something wrong?”

    “Something is out of place,” Vader murmurs, barely talking to the officer. Gabriel curses internally. Vader can’t see him, but he can tell that Gabriel’s doing something, even if he doesn’t know it’s Gabriel. “Send someone down to check on the rebel ship. There may yet be more trouble from that quarter.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    Damnit! Gabriel doesn’t wait and flies again, straight out of his hiding place and down towards the crystal generator. Might as well give them proof of trouble to go chasing after. He doesn’t see the way Vader reacts to the strange breeze fluttering around them. Neither does anyone else - the mask is good for hiding expressions.

    Gabriel yanks three more crystals out of their casings - seven total makes for a good number. Alarms start blaring deafeningly, and the multitude of guards stationed start panicking.

    It’s very convenient that the generator is a maze of tiny pillars that form the housings for the crystals. Gabriel easily slips out, the guards losing their fellows in a maze of their own making.

    He returns, not to the bay, but to the nearest control room. There’s a truly dizzying number of buttons and blinking lights and dials. Gabriel knows the bay designation, thanks to the irritable trooper, but he needs a way to fool everybody into thinking the ship is supposed to be leaving.

    He surveys the unlabelled mess, shrugs, and snaps his fingers to press about eighty things at once and send all the _other_ bays into chaos.

    If everyone’s paying attention to something else, they won’t notice one ship leaving.

    Gabriel lingers to play around a little more, see how much havoc he can send running through the ship’s systems. Anything to postpone the possibility of them firing - and they _must_ be near Alderaan now, if Leia is here.

    That’s a mistake, though. Gabriel stiffens as the door slides open behind him. He spins around, one hand going to the blaster he’d tucked into his pants.

    The stormtrooper already has his blaster up. Gabriel hits the button to close the door, and it slides shut, bars shooting across it and barring the two of them in.

    “Captain, I have a hostile in control room Q-73,” the trooper says into his comm. Gabriel eases his blaster into his hand as the stormtrooper waits for a reply that isn’t coming. “Captain, please respond.”

    “Having some trouble?” Gabriel asks lightly, very slowly lowering his hand, but keeping the blaster hidden.

    “Shut up,” the stormtrooper snaps, finger tightening on the trigger and threatening to pull. There are still alarms blaring from before. The crystals hang a little heavier in Gabriel’s pocket. The stormtrooper takes a step forward, towards the button Gabriel hit before.

    “Move out of the way,” he orders.

    “Make me,” Gabriel retorts.

    They shoot each other at the same time.

    The stormtrooper falls. Gabriel sighs and looks down at the hole in his shirt, the skin and muscle underneath it already mending.

    “Oh, well.” It was nice to have an unbroken streak of getting people before they could get him, but it had to end eventually. Gabriel smooths his hand over his shirt and fixes the holes (front _and_ back - at least blaster shots can’t get stuck like bullets).

    Captain Antilles have _better_ taken advantage of this mess to get Leia out - it’s been at least half an hour since he first left to get Leia. Gabriel’s sure she insisted on waiting, but a delay is something none of them can afford.

    He takes the grate off the vent near the vaulted ceiling, just to make it plausible for him to have escaped, and flies out past the mass of other stormtroopers trying to get in. The bay doors are open, when he approaches, but the ship itself is gone, and so are the bodies of the stormtroopers from earlier. _Someone_ got in, but Leia definitely got away.

    Somewhere, out there, a couple of droids and the Death Star planet are on an Outer Rim planet and on a collision course with the second-to-last Skywalker.

    Gabriel’s going to make sure he’s still got an Alderaan to arrive at, when they get to that part of the story.

    For the time being, Gabriel retreats back into the quieter parts of the Death Star. Someone’s turned off the alarm by now, but it’s still full of frantic movement. He, meanwhile, fades into the background and the spaces nobody manages to look at twice, or properly see the first time around.

    It suits him, and his purposes.

    It’s difficult to tell time, or when the Death Star is and isn’t moving. It practically has its own proper gravitational pull; it doesn’t have an engine close enough to hum when it moves and stop when it stops. Gabriel, though, has the talent of being able to gauge by where they are in the universe, even if most of said universe is unfamiliar.

    That said, he knows _exactly_ where they are when they start approaching Alderaan.

    Gabriel stalks up in a fury to follow Tarkin around and make him nervous. They’ve rigged the Death Star so it can fire now without the seven crystals Gabriel’s stolen - maybe not quite as devastatingly, but that doesn’t mean Tarkin won’t try. Gabriel takes vicious pleasure in seeing Tarkin continually look over his shoulder like he’s expecting to be shot. The only reason he isn’t dead already is because Gabriel can’t think of the best way to do it, and they’re not close enough yet to get at Alderaan. Slow? Just slow enough that he sees Gabriel’s face? The possibilities are endless.

    “You seem ill at ease, Grand Moff,” Vader says, after the fifth time Tarkin looks around nervously - the fifth in Vader’s presence, at least.

    “Of course I am,” Tarkin snaps. “We’ve been antagonized for days and _you_ still have not found the culprit, Lord Vader.” He spits out the title.

    “Nor have you.” Vader’s voice gets a little colder. “It is not _I_ who will be held responsible for the success of this station.”

    “Oh, I’ll show them success,” Tarkin hisses, stalking over to the windows. Gabriel glares at him harder, glad that their approach to Alderaan is from such a direction that four of the other planets in their system block their way. “Once we get within reach, Alderaan will _pay_ for their rebel sympathies. I always knew their royal family was no good.”

    That does it. Gabriel’s blade slips into his hand, and he scowls fiercely at Tarkin, not that the idiot can see it. If it means stabbing him in front of Vader himself, so be it. Gabriel cannot stand the dude one more second.

    “Sir!” Someone calls urgently, making all of them freeze. Even Gabriel pauses, curiosity temporarily overriding anger. “There are ships approaching rapidly - rebel ships!”

    Tarkin sputters incoherently. Gabriel looks back towards Alderaan - and there _are_ ships, coming quick and fast, and even more coming from the same direction the Death Star had.

    Gabriel decides he can wait until Tarkin’s alone.

    It takes about three seconds to slip the thought into Tarkin’s mind that he should be somewhere else; it takes less than that once he’s in the hallway to do the angelic equivalent of a drive-by stabbing. Just to be fun and mysterious, Gabriel makes sure it doesn’t leave any marks on the outside of the body.

    He leaves, grinning, with stormtroopers clustering around the fallen Tarkin, yelling for help. Sometimes that kind of thing is just so _satisfying._

If the rebels are here, Gabriel can guess that Luke is too, if things are still following something close to move canon. _That_ means he needs to get the fuck off this thing, fast.

    He _would_ just fly off, and he’s considering pretending to steal a ship (or maybe actually steal one, just for the novelty of it) and heading off, when he spots a couple badly-hidden stormtroopers who not only have their armor on half wrong, but are holding unusual (as in, not Imperial-issue) blasters, and one’s got a bit of his shirt collar poking up from underneath.

    Geez. Who sends these people with terrible spy training.

    Gabriel clears his throat. When both of them look sharply at him, he gestures in the area of his throat. “You’ve got a little something that kinda ruins the whole ‘disguise’ thing.”

    The one with the collar showing fumbles with it; the other stomps over to him.

    “You said you’d leave with us!” She hisses. _Leia?_

“What the hell are you doing back here?” Gabriel whispers furiously back.

    “Getting you!”

    “I don’t need a _rescue,_ especially not one that puts you in danger again _-_ ” What if they’d recaptured her and he hadn’t known?

    “I hate to bother you two in the middle of this,” the other rebel calls, low but urgent, is that fucking Han Solo’s voice? He’s here already? “But we kind of need to get moving!”

    “Come on,” Leia says, tugging at his arm, and Gabriel’s tempted to keep arguing, but runs after them. There’s such thing as a time and place. Han Solo’s in the lead, though, not Gabriel, so they run into genuine troopers pretty much immediately.

    “Hey!” One says, and then Han shoots both of them.

    “That’s not good,” he mutters, as Leia rushes past, still trying to drag Gabriel with her.

    “Worry later,” she snaps.

    “Alright, princess, don’t bite my head off.”

    Gabriel rolls his eyes. They narrowly avoid two more patrols and then burst into a bay full of fallen troopers, the Millennium Falcon sitting in the middle of it and making a faint noise like it’s got the engine running.

    “Chewie!” Han bellows as the three of them sprint up the loading ramp. It starts closing before Gabriel’s even properly on it, and his heels barely clear the edge before it seals shut with a hiss of air. “Get us out of here!” There’s a faint warbled cry in response.

    Leia wrenches her stormtrooper helmet off. “Are you alright?” She demands, hair wisping out of the crown braid that’s replaced her buns.

    “I’m fine,” Gabriel says, “I told you, the blood isn’t mine.” The ship shudders underneath them and nearly makes Leia topple over as they take off. Gabriel for a moment is genuinely unsure about whether the Falcon is going to hold together. Weren’t they always talking about what a shoddy ship it was?

    “Fine? That’s it? You’ve been on the Death Star, alone, for a week!”

    “Has it been a week?” Damnit, he knew he’d missed a couple hours _somewhere._ He’d thought it had been five days.

    “Don’t change the subject!” Leia’s gone splotchy red with anger. “You can’t just do things like that! When dad found out you were on Scarif-”

    “Oh, you mean like how _I_ found out you were on the Death Star?” Gabriel interrupts. Leia flushes further.

    “Those situations are nothing alike! _You_ snuck away and went completely off the grid _,_ you might as well have been dead and what would we have known?”

    “I know my own skill, I wasn’t going to die-”

    “You don’t know that!” Leia shouts. Gabriel bites back ten different replies he could make to that. He really _does_ know that, but Leia doesn’t.

    “And what about you?” Gabriel retorts. “What were you thinking?”

    “Dad asked me to take the plans to a friend of his!”

    “ _Bail_ asked you?” Gabriel is going to have _words_ with him when he sees Bail again.

    “Why shouldn’t he?” Leia crosses her arm, a mulish expression on her face.

    “Because you’re a child! What the hell was he thinking?”

    “I’m capable of-”

    “It doesn’t matter!” Gabriel shouts over her. “What if you’d died? Would that have been worth it?”

    “Yes!”

    “Not to me! Not to any of us!”

    “Well, it’s not your decision!”

    “ _I hate to interrupt_ ,” Han yells over them, “but we’ve got company and _somebody_ had better get to the guns or we’re all dead! No pressure, princess!”

    “Stop calling me that!” Leia screams at the cockpit, storming towards it. “ _Where are you going?_ ”

    “You said get him back to Alderaan-”

    “I said we were going to go _get_ him! We can’t leave now!” Gabriel thinks Leia is actually angry enough to try and seize the yoke from Han.

    “I didn’t sign up to fight a war-”

    “I don’t care! I am not abandoning them, and you can’t make me! You want a gunner, get the hell back to the Death Star!”

    Something, possibly a blaster shot, makes the ship rattle around them.

    “Does the possibility of imminent death mean anything to you?” Han demands. Chewbacca groans something that makes only vague sense to Gabriel. “Not you too!”

    “That thing is a planet destroyer,” Gabriel snaps. “You think they’ll stop at one?”

    “You two were arguing a minute ago!”

    “Turn this ship around!” Leia demands.

    “ _Fine,_ just get to the damn guns! _And_ you!” Han snaps after Leia runs off. “There’s more than one of them, you know!”

    Gabriel makes sure to stand perfectly still for long enough that Han can see him roll his eyes before going to find the other gunner’s nest.

    It’s a mild test of even Gabriel’s abilities to figure out how the Falcon’s blasters work. It’s quick work, though, and Han’s a good enough pilot that most of the fighters tailing them miss their mark; namely, Gabriel. The Imperial forces are thick enough that their hits land a majority of the time, but so do Gabriel’s.

    The surface of the Death Star speeds away underneath them, from Gabriel’s perspective. Han’s tracing the trench, probably tailing the other rebels. Gabriel takes aim at the blaster towers. One hit in the right spot can destabilize the whole structure, or blow it up if he’s lucky. He’s got good aim, and a reaction time much, much faster than the average human’s helps.

    Han breaks away suddenly, the Death Star shrinking rapidly in Gabriel’s view. Gabriel sees other rebel ships fleeing after them, and abruptly understands what’s happened.

    He hears Leia shout angrily for Han right before the whole thing explodes.

    Gabriel blinks the afterimage out of his eyes, and watches the remains scatter for a long time. Exuberant yells draw him back down into the ship.

    Gabriel barely gets off the ladder before Leia hug-tackles him, anger evidently forgotten. Gabriel lets himself stagger a little under the onslaught.

    “ _Oof._ Geez, kid, take off the armor first.” She’s still wearing it - it’s not as though they’ve had time to change.

    “You could sound a little happier than that!” Han calls jubilantly from the cockpit. Leia snorts a laugh, letting go to begin pulling at the hidden fastenings of the armor.

    “One might _almost_ get the impression that you didn’t think we’d do it,” Gabriel says with a grin, leaning lazily against the edge of the cockpit door. Han scoffs.

    “That thing was _huge._ I’m surprised we didn’t all die.”

    “You’re welcome for the defense,” Leia calls, scattering her disguise everywhere.

    “Hey, don’t just leave that stuff on the floor! I don’t want to be tripping over it later!”

    Gabriel snorts. They’re _already_ going at it in their own special way.

    Han follows the rebel ships into hyperspace, back towards Yavin IV - has it really been a whole Alderaanian week since Gabriel was last there? Han briefly makes Chewbacca fly solo (ha) to ditch his own armor. The two of them leave a pile of shiny white and black pieces on the chair around the game table, it being the only place they can cram it where it won’t immediately fall.

    “That kid’s something else,” Han says, yanking the white boots off. “Making _that_ shot on his first try - whew!” He’s still grinning like a madman.

    “What kid?” Gabriel asks, glancing between the two of them. He has a feeling he already knows the answer.

    “Oh, Luke! I forgot - he and Han came together,” Leia explains, talking a little faster than normal. “Part of my mission was to send for an old friend of my father’s - General Kenobi - he was in the Clone Wars, on the Jedi side. Luke ended up with the plans, and then the droid I sent them in got the General, and then _they_ got Han to bring them to Alderaan and showed up right before I got back-”

    “I bet you’re glad I did!” Han crows.

    “Sound a little more proud of yourself, why don’t you!” Leia sounds too pleased to chastise him properly, not that Gabriel would believe for a second that she really wanted him to stop. “You wanted to leave, anyway. I barely convinced you to come on _this_ trip!” She swung around to address Gabriel, and then stopped short, frowning. “You’ve got feathers in your hair.”

    “Really?” Gabriel’s hand went immediately to his head. He must have missed a few while turning back. Had he really accidentally kept a few feathers and not noticed at all? He really is getting old. Gabriel combs his hands through his hair and smooths the feathers down into the rest. Han frowns at him, looking confused.

    “You haven’t got a change of clothes, though, while we’re still on the topic of my appearance?” Gabriel asks before Han could say anything. Let Leia or Bail answer questions about his shapeshifting. Leia looks questioningly at Han.

    “I don’t know if any of _my_ clothes will fit you,” Han says, looking him up and down. Gabriel concedes the point - Han is a good few inches taller than him, not to mention on the skinnier side.

    Then Chewbacca yells for Han, and they drop out of hyperspace, and Yavin VI looms in the space outside their ship.

    When they land, there’s barely room to fit in between the exultant crowd of rebels. Han practically throws himself offboard to go sprint over to a blond kid in a flight suit who’s grinning broadly but shaking so hard he almost trips coming out of his x-wing.

    As far as first impressions of a protagonist go, Gabriel’s seen better.

    The excitement and unadulterated joy is contagious, but Gabriel still hangs back, even as Leia jumps into the knot of Han and Luke hugging. Random people still bump up against him, complete strangers throwing arms over his shoulders and just so caught up in celebrating they probably barely realize he’s not in any kind of uniform. Gabriel tolerates it with a grin.

    It’s all fun and games until _Emi_ comes barrelling through the crowd towards him.

    Gabriel barely has time to feel shocked before Emi pins his arms to his side in a tight hug, burying her face in his shoulder. Gabriel clutches her back as best he can, mostly confused with a side of panic - did something happen? Why is she here? - and a vaguely guilty feeling that says if _Bail_ hadn’t known where he was, neither had she.

    Sure enough, the first thing Emi says when she backs up enough to meet his gaze is, “Why did you _vanish_ like that?” She’s looking him up and down, pale and frightened - on his behalf, or-?

    “How many opportunities to call home do you think I had?” Gabriel asks, automatically reverting to sarcasm. “What even - when did _you_ get here?”

    “After Bail called me and asked me if _I_ knew where you were! Do you know what that felt like?” Emi demands. “He was skirting around so much I thought something must have happened to you! Whatever happened to not putting yourself in danger?”

    “I know my limits-”

    “What if something _had_ happened to you?”

    “Hey, hey.” Gabriel hugged her close again, smoothing a hand over the back of her head. “I’m _fine,_ I promise. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He remembers, now, having basically the same conversation with a much younger Emi, in the forest outside the temple.

    “Well, I _was_ scared,” Emi mumbles into his shoulder. She’s holding onto his arms so hard it might’ve hurt, if he were human.

    “I know.” Gabriel lets her just lean against him for a moment, then grins mischievously and lifts her up, making Emi startle. “But hey! We did it! No destroyed planets!”

    “Yeah.” Emi tucks kicks her legs up, going with the movement. “Yeah, we did! We’re okay!”

    ‘We’re okay’ is a little less along the lines of what everyone else is shouting (Gabriel hears someone yell ‘eat my ass, Palpatine’) but he thinks it’s a pretty good thing to be happy about.

    Then someone nearly crashes into both of them, and Gabriel has to stop Emi from falling into one of the support poles for the Falcon’s loading ramp, so he lets go and asks, “D’you have anywhere more private we can go?”

    Emi does. She’s been assigned temporary private quarters, but she’s also Leia’s personal friend, so they’re not that bad.

    “There’s a communal ‘fresher only, but no one else is going to be using it - do you need a first aid-”

    “I’m fine, it’s not my blood.” Gabriel pulls off his shoes and makes a face at the stains on his socks. “Geez.”

    “What’s _that,_ then?” Emi demands, hovering over him.

    “A casualty of shapeshifting making things end up in weird places when I turn back,” Gabriel says, and pulls the socks off too. “I get something on my foot, it stays on my foot.” And the stains are definitely not limited to the socks. Gabriel rubs at the dry blood stuck to his skin and pulls a face at how it flakes away. He _seriously_ needs to clean up, but with Emi here he’s going to be stuck doing it the old-fashioned way.

    Emi pulls a face, too, and looks away. “You can use the ‘fresher, you know.”

    “That’s sounding better the longer I go without.” Quickly, Gabriel shucks off his jacket. “Don’t mess with that, I’ve got stuff in the pockets.”

    “Alright? I’ll see if I can find clean clothes.”

    “You’re a gem, Emi.”

    “Maybe do something about the blood on your face.”

    Gabriel raises a hand to his face and grimaces. He’d thought he’d gotten all of that.

    Gabriel rinses all the blood and sand of Scarif (and fortunately _not_ the dirt and sweat of a week’s worth of prowling around the Death Star) and retreats back to the room.  He keeps most of his clothes on for modesty’s sake, but his shirt and jacket he takes off. Gabriel decides his undershirt is clean enough to keep. He manages to comb his hair into some semblance of neatness before Emi gets back with (groan) plain rebellion-issue clothing that seems about the right size.

    She pauses in the doorway, looking surprised. Gabriel has to gesture for the clothes before she seems to remember that she’s carrying them and tosses them over.

    “Where’d you get _that_?” She asks, as Gabriel pulls the shirt on.

    “Where’d I get what? Also, can you turn around? I doubt you want to see me in my underwear.” He may still have his pants on, but he’d prefer a change for those too, and Emi’s brought him a pair. Emi obligingly turns her back to him.

    “The tattoo,” she says. Gabriel glances down at his left arm. He hadn’t even thought of that - he’d long ago gotten used to it being there, and anyone who saw him shirtless usually already knew about it or didn’t care. Still, the blue lines of ink curling around his shoulder and bicep do stand out pretty obviously on his skin. “I never noticed it before.”

    “That would be because I usually wear about three layers,” Gabriel points out, frowning down at the pant hems, which pile up in a way that suggest the ones he’s wearing were meant for someone a little taller. He shrugs and rolls them up. “It’s pretty old. I don’t really remember where I got it.” That’s a lie, but it’s too long of a story to tell.

    Emi snorts. “Is this one of those stories you won’t tell me because it’s inappropriate or because you were drunk or something and don’t want to make me think that’s cool?”

    Gabriel laughs. “When have I ever said _that?_ ”

    “I just assumed that’s what you were trying not to tell me.”

    “You’re too perceptive by half. You can look now, by the way.”

    Emi turns around. “Can I see the tattoo?”

    Gabriel smiles fondly at her curiosity. “Let me get a look at you, first. Have you gotten taller?” She’s grown her hair out, too, and is wearing a pendant necklace Gabriel doesn’t recognize.

    “Maybe?” Emi rises briefly onto her tiptoes, raising the slight height difference to an obviously visible one. Gabriel swats lightly at her shoulder and pushes her back down.

    “You’re so mean to your old man.”

    “You’re not old,” Emi says. “I don’t think you’ve changed a bit.”

    “That’s not true,” Gabriel lies, “I’ve done plenty of interesting things since you left that changed me deeply as a person, and I’m sure you’ve done at least _one_ thing like that, so why don’t you tell me about it?”

    Emi does tell him; about interesting coworkers and customers, about that one time someone tried to start a blaster fight, about that one time a kid tried to have a small-knife-to-large-gun fight with some huge alien, and on and on. Maz Kenata runs an interesting ship, it seems.

    Emi goes to get something to eat, after a little, but she must get caught up in the continuing celebrations - she doesn’t return until much, much later. Gabriel, faking sleep in the unused bed (he’s gotten into the habit, what with a decade or so of pretending to be something closer to human) listens to her stumble around a little and then shuffle with the blankets until he can only hear her breathing.

    In the morning, they’re both summoned to an official meeting. Emi follows Gabriel to the command center, yawning but otherwise impressively composed, given the party Gabriel suspects went on til long after midnight. The rebellion certainly knows how to celebrate.

    It’s pretty much exactly what Gabriel remembers from the movies; green screens and a circular table, where Leia and the lady in white from before are already gathered. In addition, there’s the group from Scarif, plus Kay the droid - now that he thinks about it, Gabriel doesn’t know how he found the rest of them again, but he obviously did.

    Right next to Leia, most importantly, are Han and Chewbacca, plus Luke and a person who _must_ be Obi-Wan Kenobi, given his startling resemblance to Alec Guinness and the drape-y brown robe. He’s looking at Gabriel curiously; the rest of them are either still half-asleep or slightly hungover.

    Gabriel almost regrets getting his old clothes cleaned so quickly. He could have shown up in pajamas and still looked more put together than anybody except maybe Leia or the other lady.

    “‘Sup,” Gabriel says. Kenobi frowns, but more in confusion than in distaste, which if not a point in his favor at least isn’t something Gabriel can really hold against him. The lady in white arched an eyebrow in perfectly disdainful skepticism. Leia looks unsurprised.

    “I’m not sure if all of you have properly met,” is what Leia says aloud. “Gabriel, this is Senator Mon Mothma, a friend of mine and of my father’s while he worked with the Senate before the birth of the Empire.”

    “We’ve met, but I didn’t get a name.” Gabriel inclines his head towards her, briefly. “Hiya.” Mon Mothma raises her eyebrows further.

    “What is this meeting about?” Cassian asks.

    “We didn’t call you here to reprimand you, captain Andor,” Mon Mothma says. “In fact, all of you can expect substantial thanks and award from the rebel alliance. I see before me the group that...singlehandedly isn’t exactly the right word, but your effort as a whole resulted directly in the destruction of the Death Star and prevented Alderaan from being destroyed.”

    “And committed mutiny, I believe,” Chirrut says. Luke looks faintly alarmed; Gabriel guesses no one’s had time to tell him the whole story. Leia, however, is almost smirking.

    “Given the results, that won’t be held against you,” she says. “Neither are you a member of the rebellion, anyway. Not officially, at least, although if you’d like to join we’d welcome you gladly. That applies to anyone here who is not already a part of it,” she adds. Gabriel has to suppress a grin at the formal tone and language she’s adopted. Another skill she probably learned on Coruscant.

    “Am I?” Luke asks, looking a little anxious. “I mean - I only got here last night-”

    “Where _did_ you come from, anyway?” Gabriel asks. “I got the quick version yesterday, but I’m a little curious.”

    “I think we’d _all_ like a full story,” Cassian mutters; not quietly enough to not be overheard, though.

    “Don’t look at me,” Gabriel protests, at several pointed looks from most of the ones who were on Scarif, plus Mon Mothma. “I only got here _after_ you’d figured out where the plans for the Death Star were. I think I missed a pretty significant chunk.”

    “From the beginning, then?” Mon Mothma looks at Jyn expectantly. Jyn shifts, looking uncomfortable. She seems reluctant to speak, but Cassian speaks for her. “Her father designed the Death Star.”

    Gabriel is suddenly much more interested in this Jyn.

    “The Rebellion broke her out of an Imperial labor camp so that she could put us in contact with Saw Gerrera,” Cassian continues. Mon Mothma appears to already know all this (no doubt she was involved); Leia looks intrigued. “She got us an audience with him at Jedha, before the city was destroyed. We got these two out when we left.” He jerks a head at Baze and Chirrut, who do in fact look more somber as soon as the city being destroyed is mentioned.

    “I’ve heard of that place,” Leia says. “The Holy City - I knew there was an Imperial presence, but no one said it had been _destroyed._ ” Kenobi, too, looks mournful. ‘Holy City’ must be some kind of Jedi thing - or, well, _have_ been.

    “They used the Death Star,” Baze says bitterly. “And then they told the Senate it was a mining accident.”

    “Not that there’s a Senate to make excuses to, anymore,” Mon Mothma murmurs, but there’s only a flash of an expression on her face before she resumes her professional mask.

    “What was going on in Jedha?” Gabriel asks. He’s sure he’s heard of it, but so much shit has been happening lately that he can’t be sure what exactly the Empire was doing there.

    “They were mining kyber,” Mon Mothma informs him. Chirrut’s grip tightens on his staff. “As some of you may know, the Jedi of old used it in their lightsabers. The Empire wanted it for their weapon.”

    “Oh, hold up,” Gabriel says, and rummages in his pockets until he finds one of the stolen crystals and holds it up. “Like this?”

    “What’s he doing?” Chirrut mutters urgently to Baze.

    “He’s holding a kyber crystal,” Baze murmurs back, and then his attention focuses with a laser intensity on Gabriel. “Where did you get that?”

    “Off the Death Star,” Gabriel says, resisting saying ‘duh’. He tosses it at Baze, who hurries to catch it. The crystal’s been cut and refined, probably to fit a very specific measurement, and it shines a little before his hand closes around it.

    “How did you get one of _those_ back?” Mon Mothma asks, looking almost amazed.

    “Hold that thought,” Gabriel says, rummaging a little more and unearthing the other six to increasingly wide-eyed and confused (or impressed) stares.

    “This is ridiculous,” Cassian says when Gabriel reveals the seventh.

    “I happen to excel in that,” Gabriel says. He’s been handing them all over to Baze, who’s been giving them to Chirrut, who is cupping the tiny pile very carefully. The seventh one clinks against the rest as it’s added in. “You can keep going with your story anytime, you know.”

    “We got to Scarif, we won, you left,” Cassian said shortly. “What were you doing on the Death Star for a week?”

    “Hiding.” Gabriel wonders how little he can get away with saying, and immediately decides to test it.

    “I find myself curious how you even got _on_ it in the first place,” Mon Mothma says, more than a little pointed. “Perhaps you’d elaborate?”

    Gabriel shrugs. “There were a lot of TIE fighters flying around, and it’s not that hard to get rid of a pilot. The Empire doesn’t look twice if they think it’s one of their own.” He has, for centuries now, been a master of making completely unrelated but true statements sound like an explanation.

    “But for a week-” Cassian sounds frustrated, now.

    “I assume you used the Force,” Leia says, in the tone of one who is getting a little tired of Gabriel’s shit.

    “The _Force?”_ Is said in many overlapping voices, not limited to Kenobi and Chirrut, the former of which has abruptly sat up to look at Gabriel sharply. Luke’s mouth has dropped open, and even Baze has abandoned neutral grumpiness to look surprised. Mon Mothma, though, casts Leia a sharp look. Gabriel grins, and resists the urge to put his feet up on the table and _really_ mess with their minds.

    “But you said-” Luke twists to look at Kenobi. “I thought there were no Jedi left!”

    “Nobody said anything about _Jedi,_ ” Gabriel says, before Kenobi can spout anything vague or mystic. “I was never in whatever super mystic group they had going on before the Empire.”

    Kenobi looks doubtful. “But you have a working knowledge of the Force?”

    “I was a smart kid.”

    “But-”

    “Enough,” Mon Mothma says, sharp gaze now on Gabriel. “Regardless of _how_ this happened, I think we should be grateful you found your way to the Rebellion. Rest assured, this information will not leave this room.” That same gaze rakes over the rest of the assembled group. Cassian nods shortly. Jyn plays with some kind of pendant that’s half hidden under the scarf looped around her neck.

    There are a _lot_ more questions that Gabriel’s called on to answer, even aside from Force stuff. He dodges around them as best he can without anybody realizing what he’s doing, and makes his escape by pretending to go to the bathroom when it starts to get tedious.

    Surprisingly, Kenobi is the first to find him. It’s surprising for multiple reasons; Kenobi doesn’t have any particular reason that Gabriel knows of to want to talk to him _that_ badly, and for another thing Gabriel’s up on the roof of the main temple the Rebellion’s been using as a base.

    He figures if he wasn’t supposed to be up there, there wouldn’t be a staircase and a door leading onto the narrow ledge. The door is what Kenobi peers through. Gabriel doesn’t need to turn around to know that he’s got company; the hinges squeak loudly enough to make anything else unnecessary.

    “Either you’re a good guesser,” Gabriel says conversationally, “or someone saw me come this way and you asked around for a while.”

    “Both, actually,” Kenobi says, just as casual. “I don’t suppose you would come a little closer? I may have been a risk-taker once, but going that close to the edge now seems tempting fate.”

    “Fate, or the Force?” Gabriel turns, shifting so he’s leaning up against one of the broad, flat supports that line the stair-like floors of the temple. This high up, there’s a great view of Yavin’s rainforest, but it’s insufferably hot, or it would be if Gabriel was bothered by things like temperature. The air moves sluggishly; any breeze trying to float around is forced to carry the weight of all the humidity, too.

    “The Force doesn’t work _quite_ like that.” Kenobi sits in the doorway, pulling at his robes and arranging them more comfortably.

    “Somebody send you?” Gabriel stretches out his legs.

    “No, no. I merely had a few questions.”

    “Questions, huh? Like what?”

    “Concerning the Force,” Kenobi says, “and the Jedi.”

    Gabriel slouches further down, and gestures wordlessly for him to continue. If they’re gonna have this conversation, he might as well get it out of the way.

    “I am only...confused, on a few points,” Kenobi says. “You say you were never a part of the Jedi, formally, and yet - well, your daughter is twenty-two, and the Jedi only fell twenty years ago.”

    “What’s Emi got to do with it?” Gabriel asks. “She’s adopted. Are you saying I’m too old to have not been? That doesn’t make any sense.”

    “Children were generally brought to the Jedi fairly young,” Kenobi explains, shaking off his faint surprise quickly. “Not _infants,_ but young enough that they always had proper supervision for any...experimenting they might do with their ability.”

    “Experimenting’s not so bad,” Gabriel protests.

    “The Dark Side is always a threat,” Kenobi says. “The Force can be...dangerous. Like an ocean, in which going too deep without being prepared by one more knowledgeable could kill you.”

    “So I’m lucky I didn’t drown?”

    “I’m surprised at your apparent accomplishments,” Kenobi says. “I couldn’t imagine a child teaching themselves that kind of mastery without any help.”

    “I’m good at hiding,” Gabriel says. “Maybe that just rubbed off on other abilities.”

    _That_ comment makes Kenobi give him the world’s most intense searching look. Gabriel meets it evenly. He might be lying through his teeth, but he’s not easily intimidated, least of all by humans.

    “Did you grow up on the Outer Rim?”

    “In a sense,” Gabriel says, lying a little more blatantly. “Why?”

    “Children in the Core usually have their Force-sensitivity discovered very quickly. There used to be tests for that sort of thing. In the more rural areas of the galaxy, it’s always been more difficult.”

    “Makes sense.”

    “Did you know, then, as a child?” Kenobi presses further.

    “I always knew I had power.” That, at least, isn’t a lie.

    “...‘Power’ is one way to put it.”

    “Would you prefer I called it something else?” Gabriel asks, raising an eyebrow. “That’s what it is. The Dark Side lures in people who get a taste of that power and want _more_ \- go ahead and tell me if I’m wrong.”

    Kenobi raises his hands in a pacifying gesture. “I’ve had too many encounters with the Dark Side, perhaps,” he says, meaning it as a roundabout apology, maybe. “That someone of your age could have gone so long before the fall without ever encountering the Jedi is puzzling.”

    “Wasn’t there a war? I think the Jedi might’ve had more than children on their minds.”

    “You’d be surprised.” Kenobi is frowning thoughtfully now. “Were you...too young to remember the war?”

    “Just out of the way,” Gabriel says, trying not to laugh at how much of a lie it _isn’t._ He’s _good_ at this.

    “And your parents never suspected?”

    “At what point did my family become any of your business?” Gabriel’s voice sharpens. Kenobi looks startled.

    “I didn’t-”

    “Think?” Gabriel stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “There’s only so much thinly-veiled interrogation a guy can take, y’know.”

    “I didn’t mean to come across like that.” Kenobi seems like he means that, too.

    “Mhm.” Gabriel considers what he could do next. “Nobody went into more specifics about what happened on Scarif after I left, did they?”

    “No?” Kenobi sounds bewildered.

    “This is gonna be a fuckin’ trip for you then,” Gabriel says, and turns into a sparrow and flies away.

    As far as avoidance techniques go it’s pretty infallible.

    The hot, humid air makes him feel like he’s flying through a wool blanket, but it’s still air, not a solid. Gabriel coasts on some of the thick breezes, wandering over places that don’t look like they’ve ever been touched by humans.

    Oh a whim, he dips down and slides through the canopy. It’s dark underneath, the thick growth blocking out all but a few tiny shafts of light. There are things moving in the dark that Gabriel can hear, and something glowing down by the roots. Curious, he lands on the ground on both human-shaped feet to take a look.

    Glow-in-the-dark plants are what he finds. The parts that aren’t glow-y look pale white, probably meant to draw in what little sunlight makes it all the way down to them. The glow trails in sporadic, organic patterns along the outside, and maybe the inside too. It’s like the bottom of the ocean, except with plants instead of animals. Gabriel wonders what the glow is supposed to accomplish.

    The glowing plants trace something like a path through the sparse undergrowth. Gabriel follows it, having nothing better to do. Vines dangle down from branches, or even from the canopy, and the trees get plenty of light, so even the branches low enough to hit Gabriel in the face are not in the least spindly. After the second time something shifting in the trees causes one to nearly hit him, Gabriel walks a little slower.

    He doesn’t really need night vision, not that that’s what he’s got; it’s enough to be able to sense the living plant matter around and below him, and to be significantly more aware of his surroundings than the average human.

    The plants taper off from time to time, or scatter into wide and slightly improbable fields of the stuff, but eventually they lead Gabriel to a tall inorganic mass that looks an awful lot like the temples the Rebellion’s repurposed. This one is much, much bigger. The only reason it hasn’t pushed past the canopy (which even so is only just above its roof) is because the ground slopes down sharply; the whole thing is in a huge valley.

    Gabriel descends slowly, trying to take in the whole thing. The farther down he gets, the darker it gets, but a few strategically falling shafts of light let him pick out the vines growing over it; and under that, faded colors and carvings nearly rubbed flat with time.

    It reminds him of old Mayan temples, or maybe the even older ziggurats. It’s not quite square enough for the latter, though, and doesn’t sport enough huge staircases for the former, and what designs Gabriel can make out bear no resemblance to either ancient Earth civilization.

    Not that he was really expecting them to.

    What gets Gabriel’s attention is a patch of slightly blacker blackness on one part of the temple; something more deeply shadowed that is suspiciously rectangular and door-shaped. He takes a running leap off the edge of the steep path he’s been following, just for the heck of it, and flies across the gap between the edge of the valley and the stone ledge of the temple instead of climbing all the way down and then back up.

    It’s surprisingly cold. Gabriel can _feel_ it, even through the soles of his sturdy boots, and the air is not quite so hot this close up. He draws a hand along the wall as he walks through the door, and _that’s_ cold too. Wet, too; there’s little droplets of moisture everywhere, and they’ve collected on any surface solid enough to let them support their own weight. Gabriel’s jacket is actually a little damp by now, and his hair too. From farther in, he can hear some kind of stream, or fountain.

    Gabriel walks further in.

    The door opens into a long hallway, and the wall underneath his hand doesn’t falter. It must have been almost perfectly smooth, when it was built, but time has worn the stone from its normal roughness into something a little bumpy. There’s nothing living after a certain point; no vines have crept in to grow for more than a few feet. About ten feet in, Gabriel feels the wall dip under his fingers in notches too regular to be natural.

    He snaps, and a tiny light sparks in his palm. It’s bright as all hell, compared to a moment ago, and it illuminates the vividly painted carving on the wall. The tail of some sinuous creature winds down towards the other end of the hall, away from Gabriel. There’s a line running down the center of the wall that it stays above, and just below there are smaller, almost people-shaped carvings.

    Gabriel walks alongside it. The creature - it looks like it might be meant to be scaly - was green once, or maybe that’s just flecks of moss and not pigment. Everything’s faded and very, _very_ old.

    The further in he goes, the colder it gets.

    The hallway isn’t as long as Gabriel is beginning to think it might be; in fact, almost as soon as he thinks it, he comes in sight of the end. The doorway here is much smoother, a rounded corner instead of a sharp one, and it opens up onto a room that’s....well.

    The ceiling is far above him, and the wall is distant, but it still manages to look cramped. Maybe it’s the darkness. Maybe it’s the statue that draws his whole attention to it.

    Maybe it’s wrong to call it a statue, when half of it has crumbled away and its strangely-shaped head is on the ground, a huge crack running over what looks like an eye. Gabriel catches a glimpse of a fang, or something like it.

    If the temple is old, this statue looks older. Gabriel’s breath fogs out of his mouth, and it feels like even the little cloud is intruding. Gabriel finally puts a name to why this room has suddenly put him on edge.

    It feels like the statue is staring at him, and the room is swamped with the feeling of death. It’s silent as a grave and twice as dark, or it would be if not for Gabriel’s light, which is...sputtering.

    Gabriel takes a careful step backwards, treading lightly in case there’s something else he might disturb that he hasn’t noticed. He closes his hand over the light, and in the darkness that follows he shifts into the sparrow form again.

    On his way out, he doesn’t linger to look at the murals. They might have changed, and if there’s something still alive in this temple to be annoyed by him, he’d rather not attract its attention.

    He gets back to the main part of the rebel base pretty speedily. Not that he would admit that to anybody, if they ever happened to ask.

    He knocks on the frame of the door to his (borrowed) room, and Emi - the only person in it - looks up with a start.

    “ _There_ you are,” she says. “Geez, where’d you go?”

    “I was exploring,” Gabriel says.

    “Did you find anything interesting?”

    Gabriel opens his mouth, closes it, and manages a sort of grin instead. “Interesting to some, maybe.”

    “What was it?” Emi’s kneeling by her little locker, next to her bed, but she stands up to face him.

    “A dead god,” he says. Emi starts, but he beats her to the punch of saying something right after that. “Let’s go back to Alderaan.”

    “I - why?”

    “Why not? We saved it from getting destroyed. Might as well be there to enjoy its continued existence.”

    “Right _now?_ ”

    “Sure.”

    “Okay, hold on,” Emi says, businesslike, putting her hands on her hips. “We can’t just leave because you saw something weird. I have _stuff_ to do. And Leia wants to give you a medal, you know, with everyone else.”

    “Ew, no,” Gabriel says. “Who’s everyone else? Just that Luke kid?”

    “What do you mean, _ew?_ ”

    “I don’t need to stand up on a dais and let everyone watch me get a fancy necklace or badge or whatever,” Gabriel says. “If you’re staying here, I’ll meet you back home whenever you’re done.”

    “I - okay, fine, but _you_ tell Leia you’re leaving.”

    “Is that supposed to make me rethink?” Gabriel laughs, turning to leave. He’s rounding the doorway when Emi says,

    “Dad?”

    “Yeah?” Gabriel pauses.

    “How does a god die?”

    Gabriel’s hand tightens on the doorframe, briefly.

    “They get forgotten,” he says. “For good.”

    He’s never been in danger of that, not really, but it’s still the creepiest thing in the goddamn world. Like walking over a grave you don’t recognize for what it is until you put your foot down too hard and crack open somebody’s rotted coffin.

    He doesn’t go to Alda, first. Alderaan’s too far away for him to be able to explain away getting home so quickly. But Alderaan’s a big planet; it’s not like he has no other options.

    To the south, Alderaan’s mostly ocean. But Gabriel remembers Emi, much younger, coming home from school chattering excitedly about the islands she’d learned about in class that lived practically isolated, in the middle of the southern oceans. He thinks he might have gotten the entire lesson and then some, secondhand.

    There aren’t any islands visible from here, on the shoreline. Only the ocean stretching out and the faintest hint of a curve to the horizon.

    He takes off his boots and his socks and sits down. The beach is much easier to enjoy when there’s nobody shooting at anyone and no Imperial base to infiltrate.

    It’s warm here, but not nearly close to Yavin’s close, sweltering heat, and the wind off the ocean is cool. The water sparkles in the sun, dark blue and deep past the flashes of white, and Gabriel catches a glimpse of some colorful sail almost at the edge of the horizon. The cliff behind him means he’s alone on this beach, but it’s too nice of a day on Alderaan for that to be true everywhere.

    Gabriel closes his eyes, digs his fingers and toes into the sand. It’s gritty but soft, ground into tiny specks of dirt and rock. If he listens close he can hear echoes of someone laughing, running over ground far, far away from where he is now but still on the same planet - the same earth. Trains hum over the ground as they move along the tracks; a speeder somewhere lands heavily; small shoes kick around a ball that _thumps_ against the ground and a wave rushes up towards him-

    Gabriel’s eyes snap open, and he reflexively jerks backwards, but the waterline is still a foot or two away. A wave washes up and gets nowhere near him. Gabriel stares at the bubbly foam, puzzled. It’s not that big of a deal - he just didn’t want to get wet - but why did he feel the water coming up farther than it actually was?

    He looks up higher, and sees the boat.

    “Hey there!” Comes a distant shout. A young woman is leaning over the side to wave; the small boat came in relatively close surprisingly quickly. The sail is painted bright yellow, for some reason, and just the sight of it makes Gabriel's mood lift a little. 

    Gabriel waves back, standing up. “You need something?” He calls back.

    “What town is this near? I’m afraid my father’s lost his map again,” the woman says. Gabriel can hear the smile in her voice. “He’s never been any good on land!”

    “I’m only visiting,” Gabriel replies. “I don’t actually know. Sorry!”

    “What?”

    “Oh - hold on!” Gabriel rolls up his pants as far as they’ll go and wades into the water. Luckily there’s a sandbar a few feet out that saves him from having to get too deep. “I said I don’t know! I only passed through.”

    “Damn,” the woman says. Up closer (as close as one can call a seven or so foot gap) Gabriel can see the patches of sunburn across her shoulders, and the way her hair frizzes like she’s been in the water too often and let it dry as it was. “And I only get so many chances to visit.”

    “Is this your houseboat or something?” It doesn’t look that big, but if it’s just her and her father, it might have worked out.

    “No, my father just likes to sail. We’ve been out and about for ages. _I’ve_ got a proper land house.” She pushes her hair out of her face as a breeze blows past. “Have you got a name? I feel awkward talking to strangers.”

    “Gabriel,” he says.

    “Sounds Hebrew.”

    “You could call it that,” he laughs. “How ‘bout you?”

    “Oh, it’s Eme.”

    “Really?” Gabriel can’t help sounding surprised. Eme raises her eyebrows at him. “I don’t - it’s a good name, I was only surprised. My daughter’s name is Em _i._ ”

    Eme laughs at that. “I get it. It’s not exactly a common name anymore.”

    A faint, deeper voice comes from the direction of the ship - Eme turns around, and the water swells for a moment around Gabriel, making him rise onto his tiptoes. It still soaks the edge of his rolled-up cuffs, but the strangely warm current feels good compared to the numbness he’d been fending off in his feet a moment ago.

    “I guess we’ll go around the coast and find another beach,” Eme says, turning back to him.

    “I can’t say I’d recommend landing at this one even if either of us actually knew where it was,” Gabriel says, gesturing over his shoulder at the cliffs. Eme smiles crookedly.

    “That’s not much of a bother to me,” she says, leaning on the railing of the boat. “What about you, though? You’re down here.”

    Gabriel looks at her, at the sunburn even though it’s only early spring, and thinks of the odd warm current that’s still swirling around his legs.

    “You know,” he says, “I think we may have similar ways of dealing with little problems like that.”

    Eme’s eyes gleam, but she raises her eyebrows skeptically. “Oh, really?” Either she’s a terrible liar, or she’s not trying to hide her smile.

    “Just a hunch.” The water swells under him again, and the retreating current begins to pull the warmth and the boat away. Eme turns sharply towards the covered space on the deck that houses the helm, probably.

    “ _Dad!_ ” Gabriel can hear her indignant shout. “I was _talking_ to someone!” Her father’s reply is a distant grumble that sounds like waves.

    “It’s okay!” Gabriel shouts after her, a grin pulling at his mouth.

    “If you say so! Oh, I forgot!” Eme digs in one of her pockets, and pulls out what looks like a folded piece of paper. “Catch!”

    She tosses it. About a second after it leaves her hand, the paper unfolds and refolds itself into a paper airplane that soars up abruptly, riding some invisible breeze that reaches Gabriel just as the plane does. He catches it easily. On the edge of one wing, in curly handwriting, is written _To Emi._ There’s a heart after that.

    Gabriel raises his eyebrows, wondering what on earth Eme wants with Emi - is she one of Emi’s gods? He can’t remember if Emi ever went past working with Mehe alone - and looks back out to the ship, which is retreating as quickly as the mysterious current had. Eme raises her hand in one last wave, and then wind fills the sails and pulls the ship out and around a protruding corner of the cliff.

    Gabriel laughs, because he can, and because now it’s much easier to forget about that tomb of a temple. He wades back to the shore and gets sand all over his feet, and tucks the airplane into the place where he keeps most everything he can’t find a place for or that’s too unwieldy or inconvenient to carry.

    He tracks in sand on the floor of the apartment. The rooms echo a little, but there’s not as much dust as he’d expect and the plants look alright - the landlady, Katrina, must have been in. Sure enough there’s a note from her, apologizing for the intrusion, but she didn’t want his flowers to wilt. Gabriel thinks that’s a pretty good reason to use whatever skeleton key she owns to his apartment.

    It’s been a little over a week, but nothing here has changed that much. Sure, Alderaan was almost destroyed and is now almost certainly a target for the Empire, but the Empire’s also overplayed their hand and gotten nothing from it. It’ll work out. Probably.

    Gabriel surprises himself with how much coming back here feels like coming home. It’s not much, really, just a comfortable familiarity; but still, he hasn’t had much of that in this universe.

    He’s only home for about an hour or two before he gets a call from Bail.

    He doesn’t actually realize it’s from Bail at first; the holo number is just a long, mysterious string of digits. Gabriel pauses with his finger over the button, shrugs, and answers.

    The image of Bail that appears in fuzzy blue is terrible. It’s entirely possible that Bail actually looks that tired and worn, but Gabriel doesn’t have time to examine it, because said expression is washed out by relief as soon as Bail gets a glimpse of Gabriel.

    “What’s all the secrecy for?” Gabriel asks. “People know you call me, you don’t need a secure line to do it. I doubt the Empire’s only started wiretapping you _now._ ”

    Bail stares for a moment, and then a laugh bursts out of him. He puts his face in his hands and all Gabriel can see is his shoulders shaking. Gabriel goes to find a chair to sit in, to give Bail some time to calm down.

    “I don’t know where to start with how _ridiculously_ casual you can be,” Bail says, once he’s recovered. He rubs his hands over his face as he looks up. He doesn’t look any less tired, but some of the run-down weight has lifted off his shoulders. “Do you have any idea what kind of things I’ve been thinking this past week? You vanish from Yavin, and all I hear is that you’ve gone to _Scarif_ and vanished there!”

    “Actually, I heard from several sources that you were worried.” Gabriel grins, and settles further into his casual lounge on the chair he’d dragged over from the kitchen. “It’s flattering. This _is_ a secure line, right?”

    “You - _yes,_ it’s secure,” Bail says, sounding exasperated. “What were you _thinking?_ ”

    “Oh, you don’t get to give me any of that,” Gabriel shoots back. “Not when _you_ sent Leia to Scarif. And you’re not my minder, Bail.”

    “She wasn’t going to be - she _shouldn’t_ have been in any trouble,” Bail amended. Some of the heaviness crept back into his voice. “We’re lucky you were there.”

    “Trouble in a warzone,” Gabriel says. “Who’d’ve guessed.”

    “ _Don’t,_ Gabriel. I can promise I’ve already thought of everything you could say to me about that.”

    “Alright. Let’s talk about something else. You look like shit, by the way.”

    Bail snorts. “Everything’s been a mess since the Empire formally branded Leia a rebel. The planet’s in an uproar, and their attempt with the Death Star means support has abruptly and publicly swung our way, but we’re not anywhere near being in the clear.”

    “What’s the Empire done?”

    “What _haven’t_ they done? I’m beginning to think publicly disowning Leia is the only thing that would get me a moment’s rest, but then I’d have every single one of our subjects to answer to.”

    “Call it plan B.”

    “I have more than one plan before that, thank you.” Bail sits up straighter and looks at Gabriel properly, glancing over him. “Are you alright?”

    “A-ok. I doubt Leia would have let me out of her sight otherwise.”

    “Funny you should say that, actually. She called me earlier. Did you _tell_ her you were leaving?”

    “I...meant to?” Gabriel offers, and grins when Bail rolls his eyes.

    “I think everyone thought you intended to stick with the Rebellion a little longer.”

    “Who says I’m not?” Gabriel puts a hand to his chest, faking injury. “Can’t a man appreciate his home planet after saving it from getting destroyed? I’ve been away for a week.”

    “You didn’t intend to stay to get your award?”

    “Oh, Emi told me about that.” Gabriel shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me if I get a nice badge or however they give people medals. I don’t need it.”

    “She’ll still give it to you, even if you’re not there,” Bail pointed out.

    “Largely it’s the public ceremony I’m not interested in.”

    “...I suppose that’s your right.” Bail looks like he’s somewhere between skepticism and outright confusion and not sure which direction to go with.

    “Go ahead and say it. Something along the lines of how I’m full of surprises?”

    Bail appears to actually think about it. “No,” he says slowly, “now that I think about it, it’s not that surprising. I expected you to stay to make Leia happy, at least.”

    “I think she’d be happier if I stuck around for the Rebellion and not a medal,” Gabriel says, once he’s recovered from his surprise.

    “Or stayed, period.”

    “She’s got friends. That new pilot guy.” Gabriel himself isn’t entirely sure whether he means Han or Luke.

    “Yes,” Bail says, “but it’ll be a long time before she can come back home.”

    Gabriel pauses. He hadn’t thought of that. In the movies, there hadn’t been an Alderaan to worry about going home to.

    “I’ll do what I can,” he says. “I’m more used to working from here, though.”

    “I don’t want to know,” Bail says. “If I don’t know any _assuredly not illegal_ things you’re doing I don’t have any responsibility in regards to them.”

    “Aw, it’s nice to be reminded how much you care.”

    They talk a little longer after that; Gabriel agrees to come by for Shabbat, since it’s been months since the last time he did. They chat over stuff that definitely does not require the secure connection they’re using.

    Gabriel likes it.

    He settles back into his place in Alderaan like he would settle into an old, comfortable shirt, or a perfectly fitted vessel worn to his shape. Katrina accepts his excuse for his prolonged absence. He buys more of those little sweet buns from the bakery across the road that is thankfully still in business.

    The Empire is still licking its wounds. It should have been _fine._

Gabriel isn’t looking to be interrupted when he goes out to make use of a nearby cafe’s public seating.

    “Ah, Gabriel.” The voice from behind makes him stiffen. That presence had _not_ been there a minute ago. “This explains things. I thought I’d be running into one of you sooner later, but I wasn’t expecting _you._ ”

    Gabriel puts his fork down very slowly (to resist stabbing it into the artfully worked metal vines that manages to form a table by dint of being very, very close together and leaving only small holes) as Death sits down across from him. He looks over the food with a critic’s eye, only raising his eyebrows a little.

    “What are you doing here,” Gabriel says. He feels like he’s attached to a string that someone’s just given a hearty yank to, winding him up tight in a split second.

    “How rude. Why am I anywhere, at any given time?” Death lays out a napkin with a few utilitarian movements and unabashedly steals one of the little pastries Gabriel had bought and meant to linger over. Gabriel stares pointedly at it.

    “Usually you’re a little farther away,” he says, instead of _That’s my fucking pastry._

“You got here,” Death points out. “Do you think I can’t?”

    “That’s not what I meant.” _And you know it,_ Gabriel refrains from saying. “Aren’t you busy back home?”

    “I’m always busy,” Death says. “Perhaps no longer so much there. Your brothers are rather destructive, you know.” He delicately uses one of the disposable knives to slice a piece of pastry off while Gabriel stares at him, cold horror creeping through him. Hadn’t he told Sam and Dean about the rings? Wasn’t that _enough?_

“Are you?” He manages to ask eventually, forcing past visions of a scorched Earth and making himself relax his white-knuckled grip on the armrests of his chair. “Done?”

    “I’m never done,” Death says. “Neither here nor there.” He’s giving Gabriel an infuriatingly knowing look. Gabriel despises talking to people (in a relative sense of the word) older than him. It always manages to end up with them _playing_ with him like this. “The Earth is fine, if that’s what you’re asking, or at least relatively untouched by your family.”

    “What the hell did you say that for, then?” Gabriel snaps. His body, somewhat against his will, relaxes. Just a little bit.

    “Don’t be so eager to get angry,” Death says warningly, around the pastry. He chews thoughtfully for a few moments while Gabriel stews, then swallows and says, “This is extremely sweet.”

    There’s so much sugar in the thing it could rot a tooth on contact. It happens to be Gabriel’s favorite on the menu. “I like them that way,” he says coldly.

    “Mm,” Death says noncomittally, but Gabriel can see the judgement in his eyes. “I should have thought you’d take that news better. None of your brothers are dead, and more impressively so, neither are you.”

    Gabriel tenses again. Death eats another carefully-cut bite of pastry, like manners will make this a normal, polite conversation. Gabriel doubts he’s unaware of the feelings usually evoked when a person gets called out for escaping death by Death himself.

    “That was your intention, was it not?” Death says mildly after a moment.

    “Which one?” Gabriel asks, trying not to grit his teeth and mostly failing.

    “That your elder brothers would survive, instead of trying to kill one another.”

    “Why do you care?”

    “Perhaps I only wonder if you still do.” Death’s gaze pins him to the spot. “How long has it been since you were home? A thousand years? Two thousand? I’m afraid I never paid that much attention to your exploits.”

    That he’s paid attention at all is unnerving. Gabriel struggles briefly with the urge to tell Death to shut up, or possibly fuck off, and manages, “Not two.”

    “Somewhere in between, then?” Death peruses the remaining pastries.

    “Stop stealing my food. You haven’t even finished the first one,” Gabriel snaps.

    “You hardly need to eat all of these.” Death gives him a dry look. “You’ve been here long enough. I’m sure you’ve had plenty.”

    “You ‘haven’t paid that much attention’ to me but you know exactly how long I’ve been here?” Gabriel snipes.

    “I know when I was supposed to meet with you,” Death says, and just like that Gabriel’s all tense again. “Don’t be so suspicious, Gabriel. If I wanted to collect you, I’d do you the dignity of doing it quickly.”

    “I didn’t ask,” Gabriel says.

    “People rarely do.”

    “Wow, shocker. You being such a great conversationalist and all.” Gabriel tugs the plate out of his reach when Death goes to select a pastry covered in crumbly sugar. He gets a distinctly unfriendly look for that.

    “I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like a child,” Death says.

    “Yeah, you’ve done nothing to warrant any kind of rudeness.”

    “ _Enough_ ,  Gabriel.” His name in Enochian brings Gabriel to a metaphorical screeching halt. Death puts down his silverware with a final-sounding _clink_. Gabriel remembers the other reason he doesn’t like talking to people older than him, which is that he hates feeling legitimately threatened.

    “What are you doing here?” Gabriel asks again. “You don’t go anywhere without a good reason.”

    “I’m sure if you think about it for a moment, you’ll come up with something.”

    “Or you could tell me.”

    Death gives him a flat look. He’s already set his silverware down firmly, so he can’t do it again, but Gabriel gets the feeling he’d probably like to.

    “I notice Alderaan is still here,” is what Death says instead of trying to remonstrate him even more. “Rather longer than it was supposed to be, wouldn’t you say?”

    “I don’t know about ‘supposed’ to be,” Gabriel says, slouching. “It’s definitely still _here,_ and I like it that way.”

    “Whatever happened to not meddling?” Death replies idly - or falsely idly, maybe. “I believe that was the old rule, not to interfere.”

    “I’m not time-travelling,” Gabriel says. “Don’t see what not meddling has to do with it. I _live_ here.”

    “Do you?” Death arches an eyebrow.

    “No need to sound so skeptical.”

    “You assume that gives you the right to interfere.”

    “It’s not _interfering_ if I’m a part of it.”

    “Is that what you think?” Death asks. “It’s always meddling, if it’s one of you doing it. Why do you think your Father warned you not to?”

    “Really? You’re asking me if I know what _Dad’s_ motives were?” Gabriel scoffs. Death shrugs. “I’ve already _done_ it, anyway. It’s hardly such a crime to make things turn out better.”

    “An entire _planet,_ Gabriel,” Death says, more severely. “And those delightful few who fought for the plans, as well.”

    “I don’t believe for a second that nobody on Alderaan would have survived.” Gabriel crosses his arms. “They knew what was happening. Some would’ve gotten off-planet, or already were.”

    “That’s beside the point.”

    “I don’t think it is.”

    “I am not trying to make you bargain for their lives,” Death says, sounding amused rather than irritated, which is lucky. “You needn’t take it so seriously.”

    “If it’s not a serious conversation, why are we having it?”

    Death sighs pointedly and, to Gabriel’s relief, stands up. He’s kept his cane in his hand the whole time, and he taps it on the ground with equal significance.

    “Until we meet again, then, Gabriel,” he says.

    “At the eventual heat death of the universe,” Gabriel says sarcastically, smiling with a knife’s edge. Death gives him a flat look - no, not flat. Thoughtful. Gabriel frowns and sits up a little straighter as Death pulls out a very small pocketwatch and checks it. He’s turned so that Gabriel can’t make out the time, if that’s what it shows.

    “Perhaps,” Death says, and walks off in his way where he vanishes from sight long before he should. Even Gabriel can’t quite see how he does it.

    “Fucker,” Gabriel says, safe in the knowledge that Death (probably) can’t hear him anymore.

    The outdoor cafe no longer seems quite as pleasant. Gabriel packs up the remains of his meal, resolving to conjure up something interesting once he gets back.

    On his way up the stairs, though, he’s waylaid by Katrina, bearing a note addressed to him. The envelope marks it as interplanetary mail, which he knows is something like a telegram, except slightly more advanced. He’s not too thrilled about it, since it’s probably only something from Bail or one of his lower-down rebel friends, but then he reads it and his mood immediately brightens.

    _Finished here. Tied up ends with Maz. Home in ~2 weeks Galactic Standard - Emi_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Lots happened! Most of it was at best tangentially related to Star Wars, but it's cool. I even got to work in an appearance by some of my Alderaanian gods, finally! :)
> 
> If you're interested, I have provided a brief translation of Leia and Gabriel's fight after they escape the Death Star:
> 
> Leia: I CARE ABOUT YOU AND HAVE BEEN WORRIED AND UPSET ABOUT WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN HAPPENING TO YOU BUT I EXPRESS THAT BY GETTING ANGRY INSTEAD
> 
> Gabriel: I ALSO CARE ABOUT YOU AND AM GENUINELY ANGRY THAT YOU CONSIDER YOUR LIFE WORTH LESS THAN I THINK IT IS AND WOULD PUT IT IN DANGER FOR MY BENEFIT WHEN I WASN'T IN ANY TROUBLE
> 
> Han: >:/
> 
> Again, let me know if the Enochian text is readable! I hope it is, because it looks awesome (it mostly errs on the illegible side in chapter 3, so maybe check that out before forming an opinion.


	6. Original Trilogy pt3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, it's done.
> 
> Okay, this took awhile. There is so much that goes down in this chapter, and I didn't even fit in half the stuff I wanted to because, to my disappointment, I realized that I would have to save it for a part four of this original trilogy installment. /Man/, is there a lot to do. 
> 
> I hope you're pleased with it, though, because I am! According to SW canon, there are three entire years between the destruction of the Death Star and the Battle of Hoth, and I gave up about halfway through with recording them in their entirety. This does, however, pack in a lot of action without even beginning to touch on the beginning of episode V - just a warning! I'll get to it eventually, I promise.

    The apartment is large and spacious and quiet without Emi in it, especially in the months directly following her initial absence. After her return she takes up far less space than she does in Gabriel’s memories. Even her new height isn’t enough to take her more than a few inches above the last line on the doorjamb, where the line marking her height from the night before she left sits with the date meticulously labeled in her handwriting. The first thing Emi does is measure herself again, and the second thing is collapse onto the sofa and doze while Gabriel makes something to eat.

    Emi’s never been a picky eater, but she is a former kid, and in the beginning Gabriel only knew how to cook very specific things with Earth ingredients. After the two of them got sick of takeout (which happened very quickly), Gabriel taught himself a few things. His repertoire has expanded more than enough to allow him to make hot-pocket-ish things that he thinks are some kind of roll, technically. They’re quick to make and not incredibly unhealthy, so a win all around. He would make noodles, but he doesn't have any premade ones and he’s not going to make Emi sit around while he makes noodles from scratch.

    Emi gets up to wander around when he’s about halfway done, not that there’s many places to go in their apartment. He hears the door to her room open, and there’s a noise like her dragging her luggage across the floor a moment later, so he assumes she’s unpacking.

    While Gabriel’s sitting at the table, staring at the timer he’s set with nothing better to do, Emi appears in the doorway and says,

    “Is it possible for a place to seem bigger and smaller at the same time?”

    _“ You_ are,” Gabriel says. “I figured you’d be a giant by the time you got back, given that I’m fated to be shortest of everyone I know. You’re not that tall, but you’ve still surpassed me.”

    “You’re not that short,” Emi snorts, and comes to sit next to him. “I just remembered my room being bigger, is all.”

    “It probably used to seem bigger.”

    Emi shrugs, propping her chin on her folded hands. “It’s so weird being back. Practically nothing’s changed here, not even Katrina.”

    “What would I have changed?” Gabriel asks, shifting around to face her. Emi shrugs again.

    “I don’t know. I didn’t _expect_ anything to be that different, but somehow it’s still surprising.” She pulls a face. “You know?”

    “I get the gist.” Then the timer rings, and Gabriel leaps up to take the food out of the oven, and Emi retrieves plates and cups and everything else and burns her fingers trying to grab the biggest roll before Gabriel can choose any.

    Emi’s quiet until she’s eaten at least three of the rolls, and then she finally slows down and lets her mouth stay empty long enough for her to say anything. She asks about the neighbors, about her friends from school, about the parks and the gazebo she loves going to when on-planet.

    “What about the rebellion?” She asks, when the meal is winding down.

    “You know all about that.”

    “I mean not recent stuff. You had to be doing something, it’s been years.”

    Gabriel shrugs. “Nothing bigger than anything I did when you were a kid.”

    “What do you think’s going to happen now?” Emi stabs her fork at a stray bit of half melted cheese.

    “After the Death Star?” Gabriel leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on the third unoccupied one. “I don’t know. It’ll probably get worse, but I don’t know what the Empire will dare to do in regards to Alderaan. There’s no protocol for this.”

    “What about Leia?”

    Gabriel twists his mouth. “I think,” he says, “that Leia might have to wait until we win to come home.”

    Emi slumps over the table. “That sucks.”

    “We’re essentially at war, Emi,” Gabriel says. “It’s gonna take a while to make things not suck.”

    “Can wherever this conversation is going wait until I’ve been home for more than three hours?”

    “Sure, if you wash the dishes.”

    Emi groans theatrically, but picks up both their plates. Gabriel wanders onto the balcony while she scrubs, the running water giving him some vague notion of watering the flowers. The pots are large and crowd each other for space, especially the larger but still-small tree that occupies the corner.

    He remembers the letter only later, when the dishes are clean and the setting sun drives him to sit with his back to the glass balcony doors.

    He draws the paper airplane out of where he’d kept it. Emi’s facing the other way, lining up some cool rocks from Takodana on top of the small bookshelf, next to the shells from a years-ago beach trip. The folds are still neat and crisp, and the ink is dark enough that it’s practically still wet.

    “Hey, Emi,” Gabriel says, to get her to turn around, and throws it at her as terribly as he possibly can. The airplane soars straight into Emi’s startled hands on a nonexistent breeze.

    “What’s this?” Emi frowns at it.

    “Ran into somebody who asked me to pass it along, in not so many words.”

    “That’s weird.” Emi unfolds it, smoothing out the creases with her thumbs. Then she freezes, staring at the paper, holding it tight enough to crinkle it.

    “Dad,” she says, and Gabriel’s already halfway out of his chair, _“_ _where did you get this?_ ”

    “I told you, someone gave it to me,” he says. “What is it?”

    “You _don’t know?_ ” Emi says. She presses the paper closer when he approaches, like she’s reluctant to share.

    “I don’t make a habit of reading people’s mail unless I dislike them,” he says.

    “But _who_ gave it to you?”

    “Doesn’t it say?” He asks. Emi hesitates, which is odd, because a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would have done. “Look, why don’t you explain why this is freaking you out? I didn’t expect you to react so badly.”

    “I’m not-” Emi sighs, and folds the paper in half, and keeps folding until it’s a dense square. “It - there’s a note taped to it, and it’s replying to the note, which is creepy because _I_ wrote the note while I was on Takodana and I don’t understand-”

   _“ You_ wrote it?”

    “Yes!” Emi starts unfolding the paper and then folding it again. “Even if someone _could_ have found it, how would they know to give it to _you?_ ”

    “‘If’?”

    “I - put it in a bottle and tossed it in the ocean.”

    “Aw, Emi.”

    “It was biodegradable!” Emi protests. “I’m not stupid. But there’s no way anybody could have found it, much less known who wrote it or how to get it back to me!”

    “Alright, I see your point,” Gabriel says. “But why a note in a bottle?”

    “It was sort of a prayer, I guess?” Emi rubs the back of her neck. “I got kind of homesick. Just for a little.”

    “Oh,” Gabriel says, “well, then, why are you surprised a goddess picked it up?”

    Emi jolts a little, looking at him in surprise. “What?”

    “Are you asking because you actually need me to repeat that?”

    “Hold on,” Emi says, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Your response to this is to assume a _goddess_ gave it to you, after somehow finding it and getting it all the way here from Takodana.”

    “She did say her name was Eme,” Gabriel says. “Did she sign it like that or not?”

    “Gods don’t reply like _this,_ though! _”_ Emi gestures so wildly she nearly drops the paper. “You’d think someone would have said if they did!”

    “Maybe nobody believed them,” Gabriel suggests.

    “Why are you so calm about this?” Emi demands. “You don’t even believe in these gods.”

    “Believing they exist and believing in them like _worshipping_ them are two different things,” Gabriel says. “They’re not exclusive, but they don’t always go together either.”

    “Okay, but there’s a difference in understanding myths and believing they happened and thinking that gods _actually,_ I don’t know, walk around on Alderaan sending people notes-”

    “Nobody literally believes myths?” Gabriel asks. “You’re a bit of a scholar when it comes to them, Emi, that doesn’t mean myths are meant to be dissected and studied from different angles. They’re stories. People want to believe stories are true.”

    “But that doesn’t _make_ them true,” Emi persists, but she casts a glance at the folded-up note.

    “With gods?” Gabriel pulls a face and shrugs. “Depends. And before you start rebuffing me again, you said it yourself. You sent off a note as a prayer - who’s the most likely to have gotten it, and known how to return it?”

    Emi opens her mouth, closes it, and makes a nonverbal noise of frustration, bowing her head and pressing her knuckles to her forehead.

    “Do you need a break from the conversation?” Gabriel asks, amused.

    “You say that like a joke, but yes,” Emi says, straightening and rolling her eyes. “I’m going to - think.”

    “Alright,” Gabriel says, and lets her retreat to her room to brood over the note. He wonders what the hell the note says, or if it’s just the unexpectedness that surprises Emi so much.

    Emi emerges the next morning - no doubt she fell asleep in the middle of thinking - and sits down right across from him at the table, slapping her hands down flat.

    “I have questions,” she says.

    “Did you even pause to brush your teeth?” Gabriel asks. “Or sleep at all? ‘Cause I get the feeling you’re picking up from _exactly_ where we left off yesterday.”

    “I’m curious!”

    “Okay,” Gabriel says, laughing a little. “About what?”

    “You’ve known gods before.” Emi says it with such certainty that Gabriel’s sure she’s been thinking over that idea all night. He inclines his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Why?”

    _“ Why?_ ” Of all the questions, Gabriel hadn’t been expecting _that_ one.

    “Well - _you’re_ not a god,” Emi says, and for a moment Gabriel is genuinely taken aback.

    He’s not used to being around people who never knew him as Loki.

    He recovers quickly, though, and laughs to dismiss his own darker thoughts. “You sound pretty confident about that.”

    “I think I would’ve noticed if you were,” Emi says, rolling her eyes. Gabriel refrains, painfully, from making any smart remarks that would only raise more questions. “But all those stories you told-”

    “What, Greek myths?”

    “ _Are_ they myths?”

    Gabriel shrugs. “I heard all those stories secondhand, whether from humans or from people involved.”

    “Like demigods?” Emi seems much more excited than agog, now.

    “Pfft, no. I didn’t know any of them,” Gabriel snorts. “Hercules, Odysseus, the rest, they weren’t exactly fun to hang out with. Good at being heroes, I guess, but that was generally their best trait.”

    “You’re saying you _could_ have met them.”

    “I guess. I never really had any desire to, that was just the impression I got from the stories.”

    Emi taps her fingers on the table for a few moments, more nervous energy than anything, and says, “I don’t get how you can be so casual about this.”

    “It’s just how the world is for me,” Gabriel says, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Or was, at least. I don’t know for sure how things work on Alderaan, but nobody’s proved me wrong yet.”

    “I still think people would _talk_ about it more, if stuff like that happened here,” Emi says.

    “They do,” Gabriel says, raising his eyebrows at her. “You just mistake it for stories. And no pantheon is going to be super-popular what with capital-g-God pulling the majority of worshippers, you realize.”

    “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name?” Emi leans forward. “How does that work, anyway? You believing in that god _and_ these gods? And whoever was on your homeworld?”

    “It doesn’t always work like that,” Gabriel explains. “Going to temple, celebrating holidays, you don’t have to believe in God to do all that. Not saying His name is just polite, since you’re not supposed to take it in vain, but if you’re atheist _and_ Jewish it doesn’t really matter what a God you don’t believe in says about not saying His name.”

    “Do you?”

    “Oh, boy.” Gabriel laughs, a little more awkwardly than he’d like (but not, he thinks, enough to be noticeable). “That’s a complicated question, Emi.”

    “Why?”

    Gabriel shrugs again, looking down at the table. “My faith’s all tangled up in my family. It’s complicated through and through.”

    “So you believe in _other_ gods,” Emi says, “but not capital-g-God?”

    “I didn’t say that, and I don’t think it counts as believing in ‘em if I’ve _met_ ‘em,” Gabriel says, rolling his eyes. “That’s like asking me to believe in you. Of course I believe in you, I’ve seen with my own eyes that you exist, but nobody’s gonna phrase it like that. You see?”

    “I guess,” Emi says. She straightens, leaning back against the chair. “I think I’m still getting used to how casually you talk about gods.”

    “Here’s a lesson, then,” Gabriel says. “Rarely do gods deserve the respect they ask for. I’m not saying you shouldn’t, because it’s impolite and usually dangerous if you do it to their face, I’m saying I’ve never met a pantheon that wasn’t at least mostly full of pretentious jerks with ideas of superiority just ‘cause they got a bunch of humans to believe in them.”

    “...Wow. Okay,” Emi says, blinking in surprise.

    “Though again, I dunno how it works on Alderaan,” Gabriel says, and grins. “You want breakfast?”

* * *

 

    Gabriel, apparently, missed Passover while he was on the Death Star (unfortunate), but it’s not like anybody’s holding it against him. He shows up for the royal Shabbat, Emi in tow, with all due ceremony, which is very little. He makes a point of being as casual as possible with the royal family, since they tolerate it and could use the reminder that they’re only human every once in awhile.

    Chava seems a little quieter than normal, but she smiles at Gabriel every time she catches him looking, like she thinks he can’t see through it. She also wrinkles her nose a little when the kiddush cup comes her way and takes a very small sip, which is odd, but when the cup gets to Gabriel it’s half full of actual wine, instead of tea or a substitute. He takes a sip, wonders what the Alderaanian drinking age is, and does not warn Emi, who is in the habit of taking mildly inappropriate gulps.

    Emi manages to keep her composure and pass the cup to Bail, but also elbows Gabriel hard when she thinks nobody's looking.

The dinner passes while they talk about meaningless things; Gabriel gets the feeling it’s too dangerous to talk about the Rebellion in most areas of the palace, now. Bail is busy with politics, which he skates over; Breha is doing charity work and a diplomatic dinner soon which Gabriel hears as ‘pulling support from anyone we can’. Chava talks briefly about her own adventures in politics, but she’s far more of a quiet royal than her sister, more comfortable with working behind the scenes. Gabriel wonders where on Earth she gets it from, since it’s certainly not from anybody in her immediate family.

    Emi briefly entertains with stories from her time at Maz’s, with stories far less colorful than the ones she’d told Gabriel. Being in the palace always makes her a little more cautious, Gabriel notices, at least when it comes to politeness. Nonetheless, Chava seems entranced; but then, she’s always liked Emi, and probably looked up to her a little. Emi _is_ five years older than her.

    Gabriel looks at the two of them (and pretends not to look at the lines around Bail’s eyes, the touch of grey in Breha’s hair) and wonders when they got so old.

    “Oh!” Breha says, interrupting his thoughts, and he sees she’s looking out the window. “The sun’s set.”

    “Yeah,” Gabriel says, raising his eyebrows, “it definitely has.” Does Alderaan place some kind of significance on the sun that he somehow has missed this whole time?

    “Did you forget that it’s Omer?” Breha raises her eyebrows right back at him, and looks far more regal doing it than he does. Gabriel starts a little, but hides it - he _has_ forgotten.

    “What’s Omer?” Emi asks.

    “We wait until after sunset and then count every single day from Passover to Shavuot,” Gabriel says.

    “...Why?”

    “Tradition,” Gabriel says simply, grinning at Breha.

    “Most of these holidays are so old we’ve had to work hard to remember what they’re for,” Bail says, “but our ancestors were very good at keeping a tight hold on their history. Gabriel, do you want to do it?”

    “What?” _Him?_

“Do you want to do the count?”

    “I don’t know what the count _is_ for tonight,” Gabriel says, which is true, but it’s mostly an excuse. He’s thinking of the blessing that comes before the count.

    “It’s-”

    “It’s fine, Bail,” Gabriel interrupts, raising a hand to stop him. “Maybe another time.”

    Chava does the blessing and the count instead, Hebrew running fluidly off her tongue. Gabriel wonders if they have any kind of Hebrew school he’d recognize on Alderaan, or whether Chava’s just homeschooled, given the royal family’s Orthodox bend. As he thinks, his feet take him back out onto the balcony, leaving behind the light and warmth of the sitting room.

The view is the same, except for a flowering plant that’s grown over and around the railing. The capital city is a little darker in some places than he remembers it being, from this view, but it’s changed less than it’s stayed the same. And just like last time, he hears the door open again behind him.

    “You don’t often try to retreat like this,” Breha says, the door sliding shut behind her with a faint rush of air.

    “I don’t get the urge to leave your company often,” Gabriel replies lightly. He leans on the railing and continues to look out at the city as Breha joins him. There’s a dark band where the city ends and the lake surrounding it begins, a dark patch of water invisible in the dark.

    Invisible to humans, anyway. Gabriel could look a lot further if he felt like it, but strangely, he doesn’t. Breha wouldn’t notice, but it would feel like ignoring her in favor of examining her city close than he needs to.

    “What’s different tonight, then?”

    Gabriel shrugs. It’s not quite spring yet, not on Alderaan, but the breeze that drifts by and ruffles Breha’s voluminous sleeves is warm. Breha studies him silently, until the back of Gabriel’s neck starts to itch from the weight of her gaze.

    “Gabriel,” Breha asks, softer, “are you alright?”

Of course. What with the events of the last few weeks, he’s probably unsettled people by acting normal. Normal for him, at least.

“Fine,” Gabriel says. “People keep asking me that, you know, but you’re the first to ask it when I    don’t look like I’ve just come out of a warzone.”

    “They’re probably asking because they’re worried.” Breha’s voice is still soft; an attempt, Gabriel realizes, to avoid whatever surveillance equipment they may be subject to. The palace has its own security; are they worried about outside bugs, or their own equipment being hacked? He encourages the breeze to shuffle the leaves of the various plants around a little louder, to play along, and turns to face Breha.

    “And what are you worried about, Your Majesty?” He asks.

    “A friend of mine,” she replies. With Gabriel leaning back against the railing and her standing to her full height, they’re now eye-to-eye. “He’s rather notorious for being secretive to the point of ridiculousness, and sometimes I find myself wishing he’d open up a little more, but I’d settle for knowing a moment of his thoughts.”

    Gabriel casts his eyes down. He’s not always conscious of how little he tells people about himself, but that’s mostly through purposeful ignorance. He’s used to people who already understand and don’t need him explained. Assumptions are always easier to deal with then questions, but Bail and Breha never assume.

    Not always, anyway.

    “Thoughts are never a simple thing,” he says quietly. There’s nothing to answer now, at least; Breha hasn’t asked him any questions.

    “Neither is life,” Breha replies. “I find that facing things head-on is often far more profitable than trying to leave them in dark corners to be forgotten.”

    Gabriel smiles wryly, thinking of the myriad creatures from his homeworld that like to sneak up on people in the dark. “If I try to tell you that I really am fine, will you believe me?”

    “No.” Breha smiles back at him. “It isn’t a crime to _not_ be fine.”

    “Funnily enough, I’m aware of that.”

    “Am I mistaken here, or is the floor your conversational partner?”

    Gabriel laughs as he looks back up at her. “What do you want from me, then? A confession? There’s nothing to say. It was boring, and in turns intense, and I lived.”

    “Really.” Breha has the benefit of nineteen years of parenting behind the ‘skeptical and vaguely disappointed’ face she turns on Gabriel. Gabriel is unmoved (well, mostly). “I don’t mean to be blunt, but a deadly battlefield and an even deadlier game of hide-and-seek in the middle of an enemy base tends to leave more of an impression on people than you would have me believe.”

    “It wasn’t _that_ recently.”

    “It was barely a month ago.” Breha gives him what is possibly the world’s most unimpressed look.

    “Fine, more recent than is preferable.” Gabriel stands, reasserting his precisely four inches of height advantage. “I get the feeling this could go on for a while, so how ‘bout you ask me something concrete?”

    “Will you answer?”

    “Maybe.”

    Breha scoffs. “That’s entirely counterproductive-”

    “You’re the one who said you don’t know me, so don’t assume that I’ve never seen violence before,” Gabriel snaps out, not harsh but not exactly kindly. The breeze stills at the exact moment he stops talking, and the silence that falls between them is far, far too pointed for Gabriel’s liking.

    Gabriel turns around, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at the floor again. Does he apologize for snapping, or say something else to end the conversation? He doesn’t want to get mad at Breha over something so stupid. But it’s Breha who speaks first, saying,

    “Was it your family, then, that got you used to it?”

    Everything in Gabriel freezes.

    What does he even _say_ to that? Gabriel curls his hands into fists, and the tiny scar on his chest, the one he tries not to think about, the one he can’t shapeshift away, seems to twinge.

    “If-”

    “Stop,” Gabriel says, and Breha doesn’t try and finish the sentence.

    “...Gabriel,” she begins, and she’s not just being quiet now but speaking _gently,_ and Gabriel doesn’t want to hear whatever the hell she has to say.

    He turns and walks back inside. He doesn’t stop in the sitting room - he’ll come back later and say he was in the bathroom or something - but for now he’d rather just be _not here._

    Luckily, the palace is very easy to get lost in.

    Gabriel actually does go into the first bathroom he finds, mostly for sake of plausible deniability. The palace is not entirely mazelike, but it’s large and full of rarely-used rooms winding hallways.

    He comes across a large room with an arcing ceiling; a dance hall, or at least something like one. The floor is smooth and slightly slippery, and the windows are yellow instead of transparent glass. Gabriel imagines that during the day, the room must be bright and cheerful. In the dark, with only light from the hallway, it’s more dismal.

    The noise of someone clearing their throat from behind him makes him spin around. There’s a servant in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from the electric lamps in the hall.

    “I’ve been asked to tell you that if you don’t rejoin the group your daughter intends to leave without you,” the servant says, resolutely professional-sounding. Gabriel snorts, and it echoes faintly off the high ceiling. His footsteps echo, too, as he walks over.

    “We wouldn’t want _that,_ ” he says. “You’re Anda, right? Are they still in the same place?”

    “Yes, and unless they’ve moved in the last five minutes, I assume so.”

    Gabriel checks his wrist, remembers he isn’t wearing an Earth-style watch, and glances out the window. It’s pitch black out, so probably not more than an hour after sunset.

    “Yeah, sure,” he says, only half talking to Anda. “Time to go home.”

    The sun rises, again, eventually.

    Gabriel doesn’t intend, or expect to be able to, stay away from the Rebellion forever. He still has contacts (fewer now, but after the Death Star steadily growing in range) among Alderaanian rebels. It’s this group, not Leia or Mon Mothma, that contacts him only a few months after his return to Alderaan.

    “Is it bad enough to require _me?_ ” Gabriel asks, as he follows a woman he only knows as Caldera down a set of stairs into an unusually deep basement. There’s a thick metal door at the bottom, and a keypad into which she types a code, carefully bending over it so he can’t see.

    “You’re one of the best at discreet missions, and closest to the capital,” Caldera says, standing and gesturing him in.

    “You’re just flattering me so I’ll listen.” Gabriel steps in. Caldera is half a step behind him, and the door slides shut, leaving them in semidarkness.

    “Maybe so.” She sounds amused. “For what it’s worth, you’re one of the old crowd, essentially. There’s more of us now, but not so many with experience.”

    “They’ll learn.” Gabriel lets her pass him, and follows her down a short hallway mostly by the sound of her footsteps.

    “Hopefully.” Caldera leads him into a badly-lit room. Uncovered lights hang from the ceiling, and the three other beings in the room look up: two humans, a man and a woman, and a togruta that Gabriel recognizes faintly. She was one person in a chain that he’d helped pass information down, but he doesn’t remember her name.

    “This is Umayaa and Cap,” Caldera says, gesturing to the woman and man respectively. “And Shine, who’s old-crowd too.” Shine briefly raises a reddish orange hand in greeting. “Umayaa’s from the north, so she’s technically new.”

    “I can work with technicalities.” Gabriel grins at Umayaa, who gives him a thoughtful once-over in return.

    “This is your friend who’s so reliable?” Cap asks. His jacket looks to be modeled after some kind of military style, but it’s not Imperial or any kind Gabriel recognizes. He’s giving Gabriel a far more judgemental look.

    “Loki,” Gabriel says, by way of introduction. He’s not surprised by Cap’s reaction - he hardly looks like a rebel, given his height and general softness and penchant for nice clothes. “Mostly I run info. Not usually big stuff, but it gets where it needs to go.”

    Cap side-eyes Caldera skeptically, like he’s asking _Why the hell did you bring this dude?_ Caldera doesn’t respond, instead turning on the holoprojector in the middle of the table that occupies most of the room.

    “This,” she says, as the blue image stabilizes, “is why I need help from all four of you.”

    Gabriel studies the image. It looks like a map, a squarish building with two floors and a couple of points of interest labeled in Aurebesh.

    “Where is this?” Shine asks, leaning forward to examine the projection closely.

    “Alderaan. Not _too_ far from here - it’s on the continent. It’s in a more heavily-forested area, to the east.” Caldera hesitates, and then plunges forward. “This is where our sponsor lives.”

    “Sponsor, as in whoever’s funding some of the bigger shit we pull,” Cap says, narrowing his eyes. “Why do you know where they live?”

    “She contacted me for help,” Caldera replies. “I was just as surprised. She, out of all of us, would want to keep her identity secret - and has. But with Alderaan essentially being at war with the Empire right now, someone’s coming after her.”

    “There’s been no declaration of war,” Gabriel objects, but it’s only a token protest.

    “We might as well be,” Umayaa murmurs. Her Alda is accented, like she’s used to speaking something else. Maybe the north speaks a different dialect. “The Empire won’t let their defeat stand, and they don’t know where the Rebellion is. Alderaan was just as involved as the official rebels.”

    “Which is why whoever’s trying to blackmail her has chosen now to do it,” Calandra says.

    “Blackmail?” Umayaa says sharply. “What kind?”

    “I wasn’t told,” Caldera says, a little stiffly. Gabriel guesses she resents it. Maybe she knows their sponsor in person - or maybe has been in her confidence before. Gabriel doesn’t ask. “But from what I can gather, she’s in a tenuous political position and doesn’t need any more trouble.”

    “What’re they threatening her over?” Cap asks.

    Caldera grimaces. “Us. He must have noticed the money moving in strange ways.”

    “Well, shit,” Gabriel says.

    “Are we in trouble?” Cap’s arms are crossed, and his expression is stormy.

    “I don’t know.” Caldera shakes her head. “If they decide they want to know _who_ she’s funding, there’s no guarantee that whatever they have isn’t enough to make her give up names. Our only protection is that she doesn’t know who we are beyond the names we use here.”

    “If this person has blackmail on her, there’s no telling what he might be able to find on us,” Umayaa points out.

    “We’ll be careful,” Caldera says firmly. “This affects all of us, no matter how it goes down. Will you help or not?”

    Of course they’ll all help. Gabriel expected it. Self-preservation or no, they’re not here because they’re bad people.

    “I shouldn’t be gone for long,” Gabriel tells Emi, before he leaves. Their destination is not nearly close enough to be only a train trip or shuttle away, and anyway he wouldn’t want to chance leading anyone back to where he _lives._ “A long weekend, at most.”

    “Uh huh.” Emi’s not thrilled, because he won’t tell her what he’s doing, just let her guess that it was a rebel thing.

    “I’ve done way worse than this and come out fine, you realize.”

    “Yeah.”

    “How about if I’m gone for more than five days, you can call whoever you like to come rescue me?”

    “A minute ago you said long weekend.”

    Gabriel shrugs. “Never assume nothing’s going to go wrong.” He pats Emi on the shoulder, and makes some firm goodbyes, and heads off alone.

    There’s a train that leads straight to the city he’s making his way to, Belleau-a-Lir. Gabriel doesn’t know much about the place, never having been there before, and all the ‘net can give him is some touristy information about how it’s Alderaan’s ‘cultural capital’. With that in mind, he’s not sure what to expect from the city or from their mysterious sponsor - not that he really expects to meet the latter.

    He’s taking necessary precautions, and the train doesn’t make a stop anywhere near their little mountain town, so he cuts through the forest. Alderaan’s forests grow on mountains, mostly, and so are thick and sturdy by necessity, which makes them a less than optimal shortcut. Then again, most people on Alderaan haven’t also been forced to go adventuring through Jötunheim in the dead of winter, so Gabriel has a certain advantage. Other than his other advantages.

    There are a couple of hiking trails through the forest, which probably don’t go in the direction Gabriel would like, but it’s at least a break from stomping through undergrowth. It’s about halfway down the second one he finds that he hears someone singing.

    Gabriel stops, tilting his head. Whoever’s singing, they’re definitely a decent way ahead of him. He doesn’t recognize the [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3IpyKy1PEY) \- it sounds similar to Alda, but it’s a different dialect, lilting and only half familiar. Gabriel shifts his backpack (which he’d brought mostly for appearance’s sake) and keeps walking, listening and waiting for the words to make sense.

    He catches bits and pieces about fishing and an ocean before the singer comes into view. There’s a dark-haired man far ahead of him, walking in beat with his song. Gabriel hung back, slowing his own speed and continuing to listen. After a few moments, though, the man seems to notice he’s being followed and stops, turning around to walk backwards. Strangely enough, he smiles when he sees Gabriel.

    “Hello!” He says. “Are you hiking, too? Why so far behind?”

    “Something like that,” Gabriel says, picking up his speed a little. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” That, and it had given him a little more time to look at the man more closely. While this world may not be his own, the brief encounter with Eme has given Gabriel a passing familiarity with Alderaanian gods, and once noticed the signs are unmistakable.

    “Oh, but music should be shared,” the god says cheerfully. “Do you know it?”

    “No. It sounds nice, though. Reminds me of a place I once stayed.” Gabriel was in Japan for nearly two centuries, but in the larger scheme of things, that isn’t that long at all.

    “And what place is that?”

    “Nowhere you’d know of.”

    The god falls into step next to Gabriel as they both continue walking, still going backwards. Gabriel takes it a little farther and matches his pace exactly with the other’s, wondering how long it will take him to notice.

    “We should know each other’s names, if we’re to be traveling companions,” the god says.

    “Companions, huh?” Gabriel says.

    “What else would you call two people walking together?” He seems to really mean it, too. Gabriel grins easily at him, and receives one in return.

    “Alright,” he says. “I’m Gabriel.”

    “Meilo,” the god offers eagerly in return. He turns around to walk normally. “Do you know any songs from this place you spoke of?”

    “Only rude ones,” Gabriel replies, flashing him a grin. “How did the one you were singing go?”

    “Don’t you know _any_?” Meilo asks, lightning-fast.

    “Is that an invitation?”

    Meilo smiles, gesturing widely towards Gabriel. Gabriel thinks for a moment, going through any songs he knows that are along the same melodic lines as Meilo’s fishing song.

    [ _"There_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdRLARevE40) are _stars_ in the _sou_ thern sky,” he begins in English, “ _South_ ward _as_ you go-o. _There_ is _moon_ light and _moss_ in the trees, down the _se_ ven _bri_ dges _ro-oad._ ” He wishes he had a guitar, not that they even exist on Alderaan. The song sounds much better accompanied.

    Meilo listens attentively; Gabriel can see him watching out of the corner of his eye. He catches onto the melody quickly, humming while Gabriel sings. It does feel companionable, to walk and sing with a partner. There’s sunlight through the trees, and the sound of birds and wind and water, and it may be nearly noon but the song feels right for where he is right now. Gabriel taps out the rhythm on his thigh as he walks, and he and Meilo both step forwards in time with the beat.

    Gabriel flashes Meilo a grin, and splits his voice, singing his own harmony. Meilo’s eyes widen in an incredibly gratifying way.

    Gabriel sings about time-sweetened honey and seven bridges, and is hit with an almost staggering sense of homesickness. Alderaan is beautiful, but it’s _not Earth._

    “Why did you stop?” Meilo asks.

    “It’s the end of the song,” Gabriel says as an excuse, switching back to Alda.

    “It’s an interesting-sounding language. Yours?”

    “No.” Gabriel doesn’t elaborate. Meilo gives him a curious look, still skipping along on beat.

    “You’re an interesting person,” Meilo muses. “I think I will go farther east, and see if they’ve heard your song there.” The wind rises, rustling the leaves in the trees, and Gabriel barely has time to raise his hand in farewell before Meilo is gone.

    Gabriel snorts, and drops his hand. “I doubt it,” he says to the empty forest path, and continues onward.

    He makes it to the train station in relatively good time, and makes sure to pick all the pine needles and burrs off his clothing before he buys a ticket. The ride itself is unremarkable, except for the scenery that passes outside the window.

    Belleau-a-Lir is almost as far east as one can get on Alderaan without crossing an ocean, but not close enough to the ocean itself for there to be even a hint of salt in the air when Gabriel disembarks. The train station there is bustling, which is lucky; it will allow Gabriel to go unnoticed more easily.

    Gabriel escapes into the wide streets of the city. It’s poorer-looking than Aldera, not to mention far more landlocked. It’s crowded, too; everyone seems to be out and about doing everything a person could possibly conceive of doing. There are markets, shops, a cluster of tall silver buildings that marks out a more professional downtown area. Gabriel passes a park with a dilapidated stage setup and a troop of performers acting out a story he doesn’t recognize.

    There aren’t just people. There are many, many alien species mixed in with the humans, and dogs wandering around or birds hopping from awning to awning in the markets. Gabriel only has a small bag, so he walks around the city for a long time, just looking. He follows a stray dog for a while to amuse himself and gets a glimpse of some interesting alleyways. The city seems more old-fashioned, with some rambling narrow streets and tall houses crowded together with laundry lines and even ivy strung between them overhead.

    He loves it. He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to this city; it’s unfortunate that he’s here because something bad is happening within it.

    Gabriel finds a dilapidated inn sort of place where he can rent a room and nobody asks too many questions. He leaves his bag in the room (he has nothing important in there) and walks back out into the city.

    He finds somewhere discreet, takes the same shape as the stray dog from before, and sets out to explore. It will be much easier if there’s no chance of him being recognized by anybody he might run into later. It’s not exactly likely for him to run into the blackmailer while out and about, but stranger things have happened to him.

    The world is mostly smell as a dog, or really in any canine form, and it smells excellent for the most part. Gabriel follows a trail of a soft earthy thing and wanders back into the park before he realizes it’s only someone who had been carrying a lot of plant fertilizer. Alderaan in general smells pervasively of plants, but in the market areas the air is thick with cooking meat and baking bread and all sorts of nice things. Gabriel heads towards the nearest one.

    Hanging out on the fringes of the many shabby markets not only gives him a chance to people-watch, but puts him in contact with a delightful series of humans silly enough to feed strays who give him little scraps of their food. Gabriel lets some of them pet him in exchange, because it feels nice and there’s no reason not to.

    Funnily enough, the various other species walking around have just as much of a tendency towards unwise wildlife decisions. Stray dogs are probably common enough that being fed scraps by humans is their main source of food, but Gabriel can’t help but think it doesn’t exactly solve the problem. Still, it gives him a good cover. Plus a twi’lek lady gives him a whole half of her sweet roll. Gabriel sniffs it to make sure he can eat it in this form before scarfing it down. Mm, sugar.

    He walks for most of the day, but near evening takes a break and installs himself in between a stall selling what looks like mitarashi dango and another hawking small electronics. There’s a sign explaining the specifics of said electronics, but the sign is in green and red, and as a dog Gabriel can’t see certain colors, nor can he be bothered to give himself color vision just to read a sign.

    The owner of the food stall has a younger employee who seems equal parts bored and tired, and likes to come over and pet him periodically. Gabriel likes her; she scratches all the right spots.

    “Is this stuff good for carnivores?” Gabriel’s ears perk up at the new voice. He recognizes it and the customer it belongs to; it’s Shine, the togruta that Caldera had introduced him to. Evidently, at least some of the team has also made it into town.

    Gabriel doesn’t listen to the ensuing food conversation, but he does watch Shine through half-lidded eyes. She’s in a genial mood, talking with genuine interest with the stall owner as they exchange credits and food. The other employee wanders over again to pet Gabriel, attracting Shine’s attention.

    “Is that your dog? He’s cute.” Gabriel thumps his tail a couple times against the ground.

    “No, just a stray who’s never going to leave now.” The owner casts Gabriel a glance. The employee reluctantly stops scratching behind Gabriel’s ears. “At least we haven’t fed him.”

    “Looks pretty well off for a stray,” Shine comments. She leaves her food on the counter and bends down to tilt Gabriel’s muzzle up, feeling around his neck with her other hand for a collar. Gabriel sniffs at her out of curiosity. Togruta smell very different from humans. It’s vaguely familiar - he’s caught traces of it while out and about - but unique to her in a way he can’t put a name to. It’s difficult to place smells when he can’t even name the planet they come from.

    There’s the faintest trace of a human scent on her, too. Maybe one of their human co-conspirators? Gabriel hasn’t gotten a whiff of any of them in this shape before, and so he can’t put a name to it now.

    “You’re on your own, huh?” Shine says to him. “That’s too bad, buddy. It’s a rough life.”

    Gabriel sniffs at her hand again, savoring the meaty smell of the dango-ish thing she’d just bought, and then sits up, shaking himself. He doesn’t have all day to lounge around. He’s got to get to their meeting place by that night, same as Shine.

    “Bye, then!” Shine calls after him as he trots away, an edge of laughter in her voice. Gabriel decides he likes her.

    The night falls thick and black. There are some fancy streetlights, but only on the nicer streets. It makes for very convenient sneaking around. Unfortunately, the dango stall, unlike certain others, is not open at night, so Gabriel can’t get a taste of their merchandise on his way to rendezvous with everyone else.

    Umayaa has beat him there. She’s set up by the window with what appears to be a sniper rifle. Gabriel pauses in the doorway, and moves slowly. Umayaa looks _very_ settled in, like she’s been here for a while, and Gabriel spies a small duffel bag in the corner. She must have really wanted to make sure they were secure.

    Cap arrives second, and scowls at the scene before him before picking a corner to lurk in equidistant from the two of them. That’s some determined isolation right there.

    Shine and Caldera arrive barely seconds apart. Caldera is still setting up whatever she’s brought when Shine throws herself through the door, closing it quickly behind her. Her behavior makes everyone look up sharply.

    “Sorry,” Shine says. “I thought I was being followed.”

    “By who?” Cap asks sharply.

    “I couldn’t see. It was dark - I came along the unlit streets so nobody would notice.”

    “We’ll be quick,” Caldera says grimly. “Umayaa - the windows.”

    Umayaa tugs on a string, and a curtain falls over the single window by her sniper’s nest. Caldera flips on her tablet, which projects an image. It’s blindingly bright for a fraction of a second, but long after Gabriel adjusts the others are still blinking spots out of their vision. Everyone except Umayaa, that is, who is still staring out at the street through a crack between the curtain and the casement.

    “I’ve been in contact with our sponsor,” Caldera says, quiet and fast. “We don’t have a lot of info on who we’re up against. An Imperial sympathizer, recently disgraced, but no name. He lost his Senatorial position the day of the Death Star attack. There’s a lot of ill will towards the Empire and he has just as much in return for Alderaan.”

    “What’s he want?” Shine asks.

    “I don’t know. The end of the rebellion. The Alderaanian version if not the Alliance.”

    “Is he powerful?” Cap asks.

    “He has some friends, probably. Not all Imperial sympathizers are so clearly affiliated with them.” Gabriel can hear, if not see, the face Caldera’s making. “Old friends. Money, maybe.”

    “Money from our sponsor,” Shine mutters.

    “Do we have a location on him?” Gabriel asks.

    “Nearby, at least. Within a hundred kilometers, I’d say. This side of the continent isn’t so heavily populated. There’s a lot of open space.”

    “Lots of places to have a secret hideout?”

    “Maybe he’s holed up in the city,” Cap says. “He’s not exactly a high-profile criminal.”

    “He’s Imperial,” Shine says flatly. “Nobody will hold with that.”

    “You’d be surprised,” Caldera murmurs. “But yes, that would attract attention, and I haven’t heard of anyone like that.”

    “How long have you been in the city?” Cap sounds skeptical.

    “We’ll have time to gather information-”

    “There’s someone across the street,” Umayaa says. Everyone goes quiet instantly.

    “Just someone?” Shine whispers when the silence stretches to the breaking point.

    “Suspicious someone.” Umayaa’s mouth barely moves. “They’ve been there for a while. Might have seen you go in.”

    “Go,” Cap says tightly, “ _now._ ” None of them protest.

    Not exactly an auspicious start.

    Gabriel slips out the back door. Caldera seems to be heading for the roofs, last he saw, and Shine crawls from window to window across the alley and into the house across the way. Cap vanishes surprisingly quickly from Gabriel’s sight.

    Gabriel takes the shape of the fluffy dog again, and pads quietly to the entrance of the alley, staying in the shadows, which is easy. There’s only one light at the end of the street, which provides enough light to make out the vague human shape across from the house they’d gathered in.

    When the human shape starts moving, a minute or two later, Gabriel follows.

    He sticks to the shadows as best he can, but it gets difficult to stay unobtrusive _and_ out of sight of anybody _and_ keep the person in his sights. At least he can still use his powers just as easily in this form as in his human one.

    It’s something of a surprise to realize that he’s not the only one tailing their...whatever the person is. Eavesdropper. Spy. Whichever. But Gabriel happens to glance up and sees Shine moving along rooftops, easily making the jumps over narrow alleys without too much noise.

    Of course, following the spy back to wherever they came from without any incident would be too easy, apparently.

    Gabriel looks up sharply when he hears a muffled _thump._ The person he’s following stops dead. Shine does not react, given that the source of the thump was her falling, grabbing the edge of the roof she was trying to get onto, and hitting the wall hard with her body.

    Gabriel would wince in sympathy, except he’s a dog and his face doesn’t work like that. He huddles up against a shadowed wall to keep an eye on her, but Shine’s already navigating her way down, dropping fearlessly to grab the windowsill on her way down and bringing herself a few feet closer to the ground. His problem right now is the spy, who is coming closer to investigate. There is something suspiciously blaster-like in their hand.

    Gabriel makes a split-second decision and darts out, purposefully knocking over two potted plants on the way. He swerves around the blaster-toting woman’s legs, nearly sending her off-balance, and beats it down the block before she can decide that he’s enough of a pest to shoot at. When he risks stopping to glance back, she’s turned towards him. He can’t see Shine from here, but hopefully she got away.

    The woman takes a couple steps towards him. Gabriel hurriedly squeezes into a gap between two houses and hurries down it. Hopefully it’s too narrow to be followed down.

    Lucky for him, the gap isn’t a dead end. It opens onto a street that’s completely black with shadows and absent streetlights, and a few curtained house fronts that speak of temporarily dismantled stall awnings.

    It’s also not empty.

    Gabriel startles when a hand lands on his head. “You again,” Shine says very softly, scratching behind his ears. “That was a lucky one for both of us, friend.”

    Her nails are sharp enough to be a little painful, but Gabriel lets her pet him before trotting away. He stops after a couple feet, looking behind him towards Shine. She’s standing in the same place.

    He stands still until Shine gets the message that he’s not going anywhere, and tilts her head. Gabriel assumes it’s in curiosity, because he can’t make out her expression that well. He can _smell_ her perfectly well, and faint traces of the other three. And himself? There’s something ozone-ish hanging around her that doesn’t smell remotely human or like anything else in this city.

    He’s definitely going to have to avoid other dogs if he smells like _that._ He’s going to freak them out or set them off, and when he’s trying to be a dog himself that’s not going to go well for him.

    Shine’s eyes glint oddly as she takes a couple steps to catch up to him. It looks like the sheen of night vision to Gabriel. “What are you doing, huh?” She asks him, presumably rhetorically.

    Gabriel trots a few feet away in the same direction and then stops again.

    “You’re strange,” Shine says. “Do you want me to follow you?” Gabriel makes a soft, agreeable noise in reply.

    He takes a few steps further. Shine follows him.

    It’s easy to find the way back to his room at the inn, even in the dark and as a dog. Smell is pretty potent, and Gabriel knows the way; plus, he stumbles across his own trail in the process. It smells dry and hot, if smells can be dry and hot, and the ozone in it is stronger, plus a woodsmoke-y edge that rings more strongly of Loki than Gabriel. Gabriel decides not to read too far into it and settles for checking that Shine is still following.

    When they finally get to the inn, in the literal dead of night, Gabriel has to unlock the door with Grace while pretending that he just pushed it hard enough. Shine closes the door quickly behind them, flips the light on, and whistles.

    The room is wrecked. Gabriel’s bag is open and empty; its contents are strewn on the bed and floor like someone dumped them out and hastily rooted through them, knocking a few off. The bed itself is rumpled, and the tiny desk chair is on its side.

    “What happened here?” Shine walks around, taking in the sight of everything.

    “That’s what I’d like to know,” Gabriel says, back in his usual form. Shine whirls around, hand going to her holster.

    “Loki? Where did _you_ come from?” She demands.

    “Where do you think?” Gabriel bends down and picks up a partially cracked personal holoprojector. It normally projected a still holo of Emi, but he’s not sure it still works. “You only came here with one other living thing. Geez. Who even knows I’m here?”

    “You were the _dog?_ ” Shine says incredulously.

    “I don’t think you really know enough about me to deserve to be surprised by that,” Gabriel says. “Seriously, though. Who the fuck knows I’m here and wants to do this?”

    Shine’s hand does not move away from her holster. “I didn’t know you were a changeling.”

    Gabriel snorts. He can’t help himself. “Changelings are completely different things. Where I come from,” he adds. Someone made their meeting that night. Someone already knew they were there, and knew enough to ransack his room. He’s lucky he didn’t bring anything important; a book tablet, a couple changes of clothes. “I don’t like this.”

    Shine looks around, and finally puts her hand down. “If this is your room, I don’t think I do either.”

    Gabriel reaches behind him and turns off the light.

    “I hope no one saw us walk in here,” he says into the ensuing darkness.

    “Whoever knew about our meeting didn’t follow us here,” Shine says, quieter now. “I was keeping an eye out.”

    “Nobody should even know we’re here.” A thought occurs to Gabriel. “How did you get into town?”

    “I got a ride.”

    “From?”

    “I don’t know, I borrowed a ride from a stranger. Does it matter?”

    _“Someone_ obviously knows we’re here - us, specifically.”

    _“Duh,_ ” Shine says. “I don’t think _how_ we got here matters. What can we do?”

    “I don’t know, I don’t even know who the hell wrecked my stuff.” Gabriel glares at the discarded clothes. He’s gonna have to find somewhere new to stay. “I hate not knowing what’s going on.”

    Shine presses her lips together and says nothing.

    “You can stay the night or sneak out the window again,” Gabriel says. “I don’t care. But if you can, we need to set up some kind of meeting. Not all of us again.”

    “I’ll talk to Caldera,” Shine says, and goes out the window again.

    Gabriel does not sleep that night.

    He doesn’t attempt to seek out any of the others that day. In fact, the first thing he does is go out into the forested wilderness that surrounds the city, hide his bag and belongings ten feet up in a tree, and then take the dog’s shape again before he returns.

    It’s gonna be a lot easier to go unnoticed as a rebel in a shape that nobody expects.

    Gabriel tracks down a group of stray dogs, who are skittish around him and dislike his presence. He doesn’t push it and only hangs around long enough to find another breed to imitate. He can’t continue being the fluffy grey stray that someone might have seen going into his room the other night. But he easily finds another kind to shift into, and if his fur is less red and closer to his own hair color, that’s his business.

    Belleau-a-Lir hasn’t changed from the day before, except from Gabriel’s perspective. Everything is just as cheerful and sunny and smells just as nice. The problem is that he doesn’t know who among the crowds of citizens and tourists he has to watch out for.

    The _other_ problem is that he can’t go anywhere but the poorer parts of the city. A stray dog would be far too noticeable in the upper-crust, fancy-schmancy districts full of museums and theaters and the homes of rich patrons. Gabriel knows this because he’s overheard several people complaining about it.

    He eavesdrops as much as possible, to make up for this oversight. He lies down in the crowds that gather to watch theater productions set up on blankets in parks, or sits next to street artists who give him scraps as thanks for drawing attention to them. He finds a street poet who writes two-credit couplets on an old-fashioned looking keyboard that prints out the finished work like a Polaroid camera.

    It’s all very nice and pretty, but not exactly helpful. He needs to get into the fancy-schmancy place. Their sponsor is probably there, and there’s an equal probability of the blackmailer being there too. Gabriel goes over what he knows from their meeting, half paying attention to the birds chattering in the trees and the musician busking under a nearby tree.

    How many recently-disgraced Senators can there be?

    Gabriel has to turn back into his usual shape in order to access the nearest public library’s ‘net services, but it gets him what he needs. One ex-Senator, heavy Imperialist leanings, disgraced and previously vocal about his distaste for the particular leanings of the Alderaanian government and royal family: Leti Neros.

    It’s not a great name, but it’s not a very evil one either. Gabriel’s disappointed.

    There is little to nothing on the man on the ‘net, aside from a short article on his removal from his Senatorial position for trying to contact the Empire and hand over his Senatorial district to Imperial rule. Gabriel scowls at the screen when he reads that bit. Aside from that, there’s only anonymous comments cursing his name and his family tree. How familiar. Sort of.

    Just to test how closely he may be being watched, Gabriel cuts himself off from the library’s electronics and watches the terminal where he’d been closely. Nobody particularly suspicious comes to investigate it, nor is it left unusually unused. He pushes his luck and leaves in his usual shape, and wanders around the city properly, as a human.

    It takes him about an hour to get jumped.

    The streets are so narrow in some places that the two humans who do the job don’t even wait for him to go into an alley. A door simply opens, and the two leap out and nearly manage to pin him against the opposite wall just by taking a step out.

In the space of three seconds, Gabriel slams one against the wall, ducks a punch, and kicks the other in the crotch and then in the head when the guy doubles over in agony. It takes maybe another six to make sure he’s unconscious but not dead and then wrestle the first up against the wall.

“You know,” Gabriel pants, baring his teeth in something that could maybe be described as a grin, “it usually takes me longer than two days to get into trouble in a new place.” The man, breathing just as heavily, only glares in response, red hair hanging into his face. “So what’s up? Did someone put out a hit on me?”

    Redhead doesn’t reply. Gabriel presses a little harder against his throat until he starts frantically beating against Gabriel’s arm. “Let’s try that again. Who hired you?”

    “Don’t know,” Redhead gasps. “It was done by proxy, I swear.”

    “Huh,” Gabriel says. “That’s disappointing.” He lets go, and snaps his fingers. Redhead slumps to the ground, eyes fluttering shut.

    The two of them don’t _appear_ to be on the Imperial payroll, or Neros’s at least, but they could have easily been recruited by someone who was. That it took so little time for Gabriel to be spotted and an attempt made is...worrying. The city is fairly crowded. How many people like these would there have to be to get it done so quickly?

    Gabriel decides that he needs to get in touch with _somebody,_ fast.

    He reaches nightfall, however, without being able to find any of the other four. It’s not necessarily a bad thing - they’re only four (or five, counting Gabriel) of them in a city of maybe half a million, and there’s no guarantee any of them are staying put. It would be phenomenally stupid for any of them to do that, so Gabriel _hopes_ they aren’t. But it’s still frustrating for him to be isolated from their ragtag team.

    Not frustrating enough for him to switch into his human form to look, though.

    He may still be being watched, so Gabriel walks back out into the forest and spends the night there. He’ll be able to notice anyone following him, though they would be hard-pressed to notice the hawk lurking in the tree canopy.

    Around midnight, Gabriel shifts back into human form and goes to sleep. He’s got nothing better to do, he’s bored as hell, and if he stays in animal shape for too long it starts messing with his brain. He can move past all that, instincts and such, but he’d rather not have to - it takes up time, and he might need every second he can get. And then some.

    But he _probably_ won’t have to resort to time travel.

    Day three dawns grey and rainy, and the markets of Belleau-a-Lir are subdued, if still just as numerous. A drizzle doesn’t seem to stop people from going out and about, but there’s less of a crowd than usual.

    Gabriel takes the shape of a hawk again, and goes flying over the fancier parts of the city. Downtown is more along the lines of Aldera - tall gleaming buildings and a more rigid urban layout. It hardly measures up in terms of height, and some of the buildings are a little plain, but there’s certainly a lot of interesting architecture. Not so many street murals, though. That’s disappointing.

    Gabriel doesn’t know where Neros is, or what his soul might look like, but he has time aplenty to look.

    It takes him most of the dreary day to run a light touch over every soul in the city, looking for the one that names itself Leti Neros. Gabriel’s frustrated and grouchy by the end of it - work like this is dull and time-consuming, and it only reminds him of the little patches of stains that every soul carries, which is not helpful when one tries to keep in mind the good humanity does, and not how basically every human is an asshole in some way.

    The specific asshole by the name of Neros is holed up on the fiftieth floor of some well-guarded building that might be apartments and might be some kind of company. Gabriel lands with a flutter of physical wings on the balcony outside a large window and has to scrabble to get a good grip on the wet metal with his talons. Why must every building on this planet be some kind of sleek, smooth, swooping arrangement?

    Neros is older, greying, and nervous-looking. He never stays in one room (or even the same space in a room) for long, constantly moving around as though he is waiting for something to happen. Gabriel hopes it’s paranoia - he deserves that much, at least.

    Neros also really, really boring to watch. It takes Gabriel half an hour, maybe, to get bored enough to take his usual form and slip inside invisibly. The guy is blackmailing someone; there has to be evidence of that somewhere.

    Gabriel wishes he’d arrived in the city with a clearer goal in mind re:blackmail.

    There’s plenty of terrible stuff recorded in Neros’s files, when one reads between the lines. None of it is what Gabriel is looking for. All he accomplishes is freaking out Neros with the sound of rustling flimsi files and electronic beeps and the slight displacement of various folders and tablets every time he walks back in.

    There are almost too many funny numbers in Neros’s books to keep track of, much less distinguish between. They might all be blackmail. Not all of them have names attached to them. Gabriel memorizes the ones that are there, just in case.

    He leaves. There’s nothing else he can think of to do here, other than terrorize Neros, and while the prospect is entertaining he can always come back to it later.

    He needs to talk to Caldera.

    The sky has gone from drizzly to greyed-out sunset by the time Gabriel finds their de facto leader. A spacer bar on the outskirts of the city’s only interplanetary port is not what he expects, but, as he reminds himself, he barely knows her.

    The inside of the bar is dim and crowded, and only escapes being dusty by dint of being so well-trafficked. There’s music playing from a battered electronic setup safe behind the bar. Gabriel slides into a table by the door and tries to look bored, scanning the crowd for Caldera.

    There - she’s sitting at the bar, head bent over something with another person Gabriel doesn’t recognize (nor does he recognize their species). Gabriel lets his eyes scan past them and over the rest of the crowd. It’ll do nobody any good to start being obvious now.

    Caldera keeps to her conversation for a good long while; it’s a good thing Gabriel doesn’t get bored. The other person, however, gets progressively more fidgety and nervous, finally snatching up whatever they’re looking at and hissing something that, over all the other noise in the room, is only a sibilant whisper to Gabriel’s ears.

    Admittedly, he could be trying a lot harder to eavesdrop.

    Whatever she’s told makes Caldera look around very carefully at the other people in the bar. Her eyes skip over Gabriel (who is looking the other way, ostensibly) twice, but the second time they stop, skitter back, and land squarely on him. Gabriel pretends he doesn’t notice, but doesn’t bother faking surprise when Caldera stomps over to sit across from him.

    “What are you doing here?” She hisses.

    “Looking for you.” Gabriel pastes on a charming smile.

    “Do you have any idea-”

    “I need to know the name of whoever we’re here for.”

    Caught off guard, Caldera scowls at him. “I told you I don’t know the name.”

    “Not the blackmailer, I found him already. I mean our sponsor.”

    “You _found_ \- I can’t tell you that.”

    Gabriel lets his smile drop. “Keeping things secret is hardly going to help us get through whatever’s going on here.”

    “What do you mean?” Caldera’s scowl has given way to wariness.

    “I went out to walk around and almost immediately got jumped. If whoever’s looking for us can find me in under an hour in a city this big, _we are outnumbered._ You can’t afford to try and do everything important yourself.” The entire time, his voice doesn’t raise above a casual whisper.

    “It’s not a matter of importance,” Caldera hisses, but she’s less startled now. “Why do you need to know?”

    “I want to talk to them.”

    “And do what?”

    “I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

    “Absolutely not,” Caldera says. “Unless you can think of an actual, genuinely good reason, _none_ of us are going anywhere near her.” She winces slightly as soon as she finishes talking. Gabriel is sorely tempted to say _So it’s a ‘her’, then?_

“We need to know what’s going on here,” he says instead.

    “I’m working on it.” Caldera glances briefly, without moving her head, at her previous seat.

    “And the rest of us are just going to magically find out what’s what when you do, huh?”

    “I’ll find a way-”

    “Find it fast.”

    “Why?”

    “Because the two guys who jumped me earlier just walked in,” Gabriel says, eyes on the door. “And they brought company.”

    As Caldera glances quickly over her shoulder, Gabriel turns and props his head in his hands, conveniently hiding part of his face. The door slides closed under the cover of a wave of conversation that comes with the group of humans that just walked in. Redhead, in the back, is laughing with an unfamiliar man, and his friend who Gabriel knocked out has a bruise across one cheek but looks only marginally less cheerful than the rest.

    Gabriel reorients his gaze before one of them can notice his face. While he studies the wall of the bar, he hears one of them go up to the counter.

    “Can you get out unnoticed?” Caldera whispers, nearly inaudible.

    “At the right moment,” Gabriel breathes back. Across the room a game has been going on, and its stakes progressively higher.

    Gabriel closes his eyes, waits for the moment before a move concludes, and the game table fizzles into static. One of the players erupts into anger, throwing accusations of cheating faster than lightning. The other leaps to his feet, his friends draw their guns, and someone on the complete opposite side of the room gets just the push he needs to flip a table for no goddamn reason at all.

    Gabriel is out of his seat and halfway to the door, pulling Caldera with him, before the table hits the floor.

    Caldera wrenches her arm out of his grip as soon as the door closes behind them. The sounds of a fight are still audible. “You go left, I go right,” she says.

    “I still need a name,” Gabriel says.

    “I said no,” Caldera snapped.

    “ _Fine,_ ” Gabriel retorts, fed up to twice his height with human stubbornness. He turns on his heel and goes left, because he may as well pretend to listen to her when his intention is to do the exact opposite as soon as possible.

    As soon as Caldera can’t see him anymore, he turns into a bird and flies away.

    It’s maybe not a great idea to go back to Neros with violent thoughts flying around in his mind, but Gabriel’s past caring. He lands, and locks all the doors he can find. Neros looks up, away from Gabriel, at the sound.

    “Heya,” Gabriel says, and makes a tight fist with his hand as Neros jerks around, freezing the man in place. Gabriel gestures sharply, and Neros is pressed against the back of his sofa.

    Gabriel approaches slowly, enjoying the sound of his shoes on the smooth floor. He can’t see Neros’s face, but he can tell how fast he’s breathing.

    “I can’t say I planned on this,” Gabriel says, bracing his hands against the back of the sofa, “but one must be adaptable in this business.” He’s inches away from Neros. Not even more than one, really.

    “Who are you?” Neros’s voice is shaking just as badly as Gabriel can feel that he would be.

    “That’s not important.” Gabriel leans down a little further. Neros’s hair is slicked back so heavily he can practically use it as a mirror. “I’ve got a couple questions for _you,_ though. I’d appreciate some answers.”

    “If you think I’m giving a _thief_ anything-” Neros spits the words out, but Gabriel interrupts.

    “I may be asking questions, but I’m not _asking_ for answers,” he says, and grins. He looks up for the first time, and realizes that both of them are reflected in the windows. They’re darkly tinted; Neros can look out at the city, but nobody can see in. “You’re going to give them to me, like it or not.”

    “You-”

    “Stand up,” Gabriel says.

    “What?”

    “Stand up,” Gabriel repeats. “It’s easy, isn’t it? A simple movement of the legs. Just like keeping your mouth shut when someone asks a question you don’t want to answer.” Neros’s expression in his reflection curdles with poorly hidden fear. “Like, for example...your little blackmail scheme.”

    Neros says nothing. His thoughts say another thing.

    “There’s more than one, huh?” Gabriel asks idly. Neros’s eyes go wide and startled, and Gabriel smirks. “I figured. You’ve got a lot of names in your little file room, and I’ve got time to track down all of them and see what they have to say.”

    Neros still says nothing.

    “I’m giving you plenty of time to talk,” Gabriel says. “Even with people as shitty as you I’m not a fan of forcing things.”

    “Then leave,” Neros grits out. Gabriel imagines his hands would be curled into fists if he still had control of them.

    “Where would the fun be in that?” Gabriel slides his hands across the back of the sofa, taking a few steps away without loosening his hold on the man. “You’ve done a lot I’m sure people would love you to be called to account for.” He picks up an ornamental statue-ish thing from an end table and tosses it experimentally. “Blackmail, for one. Conspiring against your home planet. Treason, I suppose, I don’t know how you dodged that charge in the first place. Hmm...how about we throw in ‘being an asshole’? I guess I could put that more nicely. Intent to be a douche. Conspiring with genocidal Sith maniacs.”

    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neros snarls with sudden anger. “How dare you come into my home and spout Jedi legends-”

    Gabriel gestures sharply, and Neros’ voice cuts off.

    “I don’t care about Jedi legends any more than you do,” Gabriel says, lowering his hand. He paces around the sofa to come face-to-face with the man “I care about not being jumped if I try to walk through a city that was never yours. I care about this planet. And I happen to have come here because I’ve heard about a specific person you’re blackmailing, and I want to know her name. Though I’m sure we’ve got time to find out more, not to mention sort through all your other schemes to figure out which one I mean.”

    “You intend to torture me, then?” Neros says grimly. Gabriel laughs in his face for a good few minutes, and when he calms down, he says,

    “Tell me how old you are.”

    “Forty-nine,” Neros says, and then clamps his mouth shut, looking genuinely terrified. It’s a good look on him. Gabriel crosses his arms and leans back against the window.

    “Tell me how you escaped the treason charge,” Gabriel says. “There must have been one. You tried to turn a whole half of the continent over to the Empire, and yet here you are holed up in the selfsame city.”

    “Bribery,” Neros says. It takes him a second or two to say it; he’s trying his hardest to keep his mouth closed. Gabriel employs no such self-control, and lets a smirk curl the corners of his own mouth.

    “Tell me who you’re blackmailing, and why,” Gabriel says, and a flood of information comes pouring out of Neros’s mouth.

    Tonnil Deo, an actress with private pictures stolen from her dressing room. Ixui Long, a foreign diplomat dipping one too many times into the underground market for his own personal luxury. Lierra Maximus, corporate spy. Mora Greyhelm, a Senator grown too bold with her support for the rebellion after the Death Star battle-

    “Stop,” Gabriel says. Neros’s wheezing rendition cuts off abruptly. He’d coughed his way through the names, straining his own will against Gabriel’s power. “Greyhelm. Who is she?”

    “Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Neros sneers. “She sends spies here to plague me because I found out about her little arrangement-”

    “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m hardly a spy,” Gabriel says. “I could be a pretty good one, but I’m not into that.”

    “You have no idea what it will be like when the Empire gets a hold of you,” Neros coughs. “You will face Lord Vader’s _personal wrath-_ ”

    “Seen him,” Gabriel interrupts. “Not impressed. I heard he’s mostly prosthetics at this point, the lightsaber’s probably compensating for something. Tell me what you know about Greyhelm. Objectively. I don’t need to know what you think of her.”

    He learns this: where Mora Greyhelm’s house is, a few notable moments of her Senatorial career, mostly revolving around public welfare and her fondness for the theater. Having risen to her position under the pall of the Empire, she manages to be notably Republican in her political ideals. Also, Neros can only restrain himself from insulting her by dint of the same compulsion that forces him to speak.

    “That’s enough,” Gabriel says, and Neros falls silent, breathing heavily. Gabriel considers his options in regards to Mora, and considers the dead light on the security cameras he’d disabled as soon as he set foot in the building.

    “I haven’t asked,” Gabriel says, faux-casually, “but I assume you’ve had one or two people killed during your career.” Neros narrows his eyes, but says nothing. “That’s not a no.”

    “Why do you care?”

    “I’m trying to figure out how suitably ironic I can make your death,” Gabriel tells him. Neros flinches, pressing back into the cushioned sofa - of his own will, this time.

    “You can’t-”

    “Can’t’s a strong word.” Gabriel uncrosses his arms and stands straight. He holds his head high so that he can look down at Neros even more disdainfully. “Maybe you mean ‘wouldn’t’? _You_ wouldn’t. You haven’t got the balls to look someone in the eye when you’re about to kill them.”

    “And you do?” Neros asks, leaping headfirst into desperate bravado.

    Gabriel, true to his word, looks him square in the eye.

    “Not everyone in the world is you, Leti Neros,” he says, putting enough gravity on the name that Neros actually winces slightly. There’s power in a name even to those who don’t know it. “Luckily for the rest of us.”

    He could rifle through Neros’s mind and find the memories of every person he’s ever had killed; he could think up the world’s best trick, leave an incomprehensible mess for someone else to find and deal with.

    He could do a lot of things. Nobody will stop him. Nobody _could._

    Gabriel sighs, and snaps his fingers. Neros crumples; nothing has happened to him, much less slowly or painfully, except for how he’s dead.

    “That’s more than you deserve,” Gabriel tells the body, and is gone the next second.

    Mora Greyhelm has an awful lot of guards around her house, and electronic security too. Gabriel perches in a tree (literally; he’s spending a lot of time as a bird this week) and simply watches.

    He can go in himself, but she’d react badly, and she’s got every right to. Messing with her security, which she’s probably got for blackmail-related reasons, would result in a lot of panic and questions that Gabriel doesn’t want to have to answer.

    Carefully, Gabriel shifts back to his normal shape, and creates a piece of paper and a pen. It’s short work to scribble a note, even with blocky and unfamiliar Aurebesh letters, and then fold it into a paper airplane. He cocks his hand back, squints one eye shut, and tosses it just so.

    The paper plane, against all logic, hits a seam in the window and slides neatly through to rest on a table.

Someone will find it eventually. Hopefully that someone is Mora. It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of staff aside from the guards - maybe a personal assistant, or a guest, but he addressed it pretty clearly, so Gabriel’s confident it will make its way into her hands.

As long as it does, he’ll see her at her favorite theater.

Mora Greyhelm’s favorite theater is a grand affair - soaring roof and doorway, artistic crenellations and birds with spread wings at strategic corners. It’s also closed for renovation, but that doesn’t stop Gabriel from unlocking a side door and slipping inside.

There’s no light inside; likely the power’s been cut off. Tall windows offer light from streetlamps outside, enough for him to see that the inside is just as elaborate as the exterior, if not more so. Light catches on crystals hanging from a chandelier, which has ropes dangling down as though it has recently been messed with or removed. The chandelier itself dangles from the ceiling of the main theater, but the stage is empty and its frame covered in tarps. The chairs are slightly dusty.

Gabriel doubts anyone will come tonight, much less Mora herself. He finds a window seat to settle into, and waits.

The rising sun casts warm shades of orange through the windows and lights up the whole room in a way that’s pretty incredible. The chandelier casts dancing spots of rainbow light over the walls at the right time of day. The light and the shadows it creates stretch across the room and shift up and across walls as the day moves on, catching in various new and interesting ways on the facets of carven murals and crystal accents.

Nobody comes in to work on the place; either work has been paused, or the theater has been properly abandoned. The streets outside are as crowded as any, but Gabriel doesn’t worry about people seeing him through the window. He doesn’t want them to, so they don’t.

    When the light has turned orangish-red and the shadows it casts stretch to three times their source’s height, Gabriel hears (very faintly) a door unlock.

    Mora Greyhelm has an air of tension about her, in the lines of her face, that suggests both a demanding job and that she’s held this tension for a long time. Caldera, directly behind her, looks mostly irritated.

    Mora stops at the top of the aisle, just under the edge of the balcony, and sighs impatiently. Both of them have managed to walk right past Gabriel, though he is rather sharply to the left of the door. Gabriel clears his throat, and they both spin around.

    “ _Loki?_ What are you doing - did you send that note?” Caldera demands. Mora looks surprised. “I told you not to-”

    “And you also didn’t answer any of my questions,” Gabriel interrupts, standing languidly. “I’m still lookin’ for answers, so forgive me for going to someone who would give them. Hi, Senator, by the way, don’t think we’ve met.”

    “Neither do I,” Mora says. Her hands are held tightly behind her back. “Is there a reason for all this?”

    “Like I said, questions.” Gabriel sticks his own hands in his pockets. “For example, why a guy can get jumped in under an hour when nobody’s supposed to know he’s in the city, much less have any particular reason to single him out, or why a clandestine meeting with my de facto boss here, who I assume you know, can get tracked down as soon as we start talking.”

    “And you assume I know why?” Mora’s lips are pressed into a thin line.

    “I think you know more than me,” Gabriel says. “ _Something_ strange is going on here, or at least something bigger than we expected.”

    “I was _working on this,_ Loki,” Caldera says shortly.

    “I know what you mean,” Mora says, looking abruptly relieved.

    “What?” Caldera turns to look at her. “You didn’t say anything before.”

    “I didn’t think it was relevant,” Mora tells her. They both appear to have forgotten Gabriel. “And besides, I was wary of getting involved in anything else, but for some time now there’s been something big going on - to the north, out in the forest. It’s not anywhere near the city, but that’s all I know. I didn’t think it was connected to - this.”

    Caldera says something back, but Gabriel isn’t paying attention. He tilts his head, trying to narrow down whatever’s attracted his attention.

    “Did you come alone?” He asks. There are people streaming around the building (the city is always full of people everywhere), but some are beginning to enter. Workmen, maybe? But it’s late enough at night that even that’s a little strange. There are two presences entering balcony; they’d already been in the building, but he hadn’t paid attention to them before now.

    “Why?” Mora asks sharply.

    “I thought I heard something,” Gabriel says, as footsteps begin to tap up a set of stairs somewhere. Caldera has a hand on her blaster. “Did you?”

    “Unless we were followed, yes,” Caldera says.

    “My security wouldn’t have-” Mora starts, and then the first trooper walks in from backstage

    Not a stormtrooper; he’s missing the requisite white armor and helmet in favor of more discreet, dark clothing. But there’s no mistaking the stance, nor the standard-issue rifle he cocks and points in the same moment that Caldera brings up her blaster.

    “Now, now.” The man who steps up behind the trooper is a slimy-looking as his slick voice suggests. There are two more armed and possibly armored people behind him. “I expected better. I’m sure we can have a conversation without pointing blasters at anybody.” He speaks Basic, not Alda.

    “Who are you?” Caldera’s aim doesn’t waver. Her Basic is accented, like she’s out of practice or never has much cause to use it.

    “That’s hardly necessary for you to know, Ms. Machidi.” Caldera stiffens, and the man smiles in a worryingly self-satisfied way. Gabriel lets his eyes flicker over to Caldera as the man steps off the stage and approaches them, walking up the aisle like he’s taking a stroll in the park. The first trooper sticks close to him, and four more appear from backstage to cluster up behind him.

    “I find myself wondering why our meeting has been interrupted in this manner,” Mora says, sounding more posh than a minute ago. Gabriel guesses her Senatorial disposition doesn’t abandon her easily, even at gunpoint (though nobody’s aiming at her, only at Caldera), though the language switch could just as easily be the culprit. “If you please, would you stop threatening my companion?”

    “If she puts away her blaster first,” the man says, coming to a halt. Gabriel spies military pins on his breast, but he can’t parse their meaning. He’s in some kind of understated (or covert) uniform, that’s for sure. What military’s uniform it is is another question. “I don’t intend to be threatened by any of your crew of rebels.”

    “I’d hardly call two a crew,” Gabriel says, also in Basic, as Mora and Caldera exchange a significant look. The latter reluctantly lowers her blaster. All five of the troopers clustered around the unfamiliar man do the same. “Unless you mean to imply that the Senator here is in on it in a significantly more hands-on way than she actually is, in which case I’d check your informant’s accuracy.”

    “You assume I have an informant,” the man says mildly, still smiling faintly like he knows something Gabriel doesn’t. Fucker. The man raises his hand, and one of the troopers turns, at the same time that something creaks backstage.

A catwalk falls, juddering to a halt in a sharp incline, sending the two figures on it tumbling down to the stage. Gabriel recognizes Shine, in the grips of a sixth trooper, with a sinking heart. He’d assumed the other presences backstage and in the balcony were more troopers, but obviously not. Even as he thinks it, two of the blank-faced, armored people raise their blasters to point casually at two different places on the balcony.

    The resignation and resentment coming off Mora and Caldera, respectively, is strong enough to knock a person off their feet. Gabriel keeps his face neutral, and his eyes on the man in charge.

    “Sir?” The trooper holding a struggling Shine asks, dragging her up the aisle.

    “Let her go,” the man says. “We have the building contained.” And isn’t _that_ worrying, but there are more pressing things to think about.

    Shine kicks the trooper even as he lets her go, hastily backing away a few feet before retaliation can come. Fortunately, the trooper only displays a flash of anger before molding herself back into a military-perfect posture.

    “I know you,” Shine accused, glaring at the man in charge. “You’re that officer from before. Colonel _Tyenell._ ”

    “You have an excellent memory, Ms. Vymar,” Tyenell says. Horror washes across Shine’s face, replacing the disgust. “Such a pity you slipped my troops’ grasp earlier. We could have escaped some of these dramatics.”

    “Oh, I’m all for dramatics,” Gabriel says. “Don’t stop on our account.” Dramatics give him plenty of time to stall and think of what to do. He steps forward, down the aisle, vaguely in Tyenell’s direction. The various pieces of construction scaffolding give him an idea, but he’s not sure what it is yet.

    Tyenell only raises his head a little, making no effort to have one of the troopers stop Gabriel from coming closer. On a whim, Gabriel shortcuts through one of the aisles that has a rope dangling into it from the chandelier, which trails on the floor.

    “Miss Greyhelm,” Tyenell says, choosing to ignore Gabriel, “we can, of course, avoid all this unpleasantness.”

    “With all due respect, I think it’s already unpleasant,” Mora says stiffly. Gabriel can see how she’s aching to spit the words at him.

    “And you thought bringing rebels and traitors into this fine city would make it better?” Tyenell shakes his head.

    “You’re more of a traitor than anyone in this room,” Mora retorts, with sudden heat. “Don’t think I don’t know who you’re working for. I’ve spent too long fighting Imperialists in the Senate to have them threaten me in my own home. You hold no power on this planet.”

    For the briefest second, enough smugness shows on Tyenell’s face that Gabriel stops to try and chase that expression, parse out its meaning. But Tyenell only says,

    “I’m not the only one who’s worked for the Empire in this room. Though of course, a dishonorably discharged captain might be more to your liking. Does it soothe your guilt, to know the conditions of his service?”

    “It doesn’t matter,” Mora says. Caldera, however, looked vaguely guilty and then frustrated as the accusations were made. If ‘captain’ hadn’t been a heavy enough hint, coupled with a reference to the only other male member of their band, Gabriel would have been able to guess that Tyenell meant Cap. “What do you want? I don’t intend to stand here all night listening to you talk.”

    “We could make it more interesting if you’re willing to work in a monologue about your whole plan,” Gabriel snarks. Tyenell deigns to look back at him, arching one eyebrow.

    “You’ve got a smart mouth,” Tyenell observes, sounding irritatingly composed. “You’re more reckless than I expected from the only one among you with a child.”

    _That_ makes Gabriel stop dead. It’s not just names Tyenell has, then. He has solid _facts._

    He knows about Emi.

    “Though maybe she’s old enough to take care of herself should anything... _happen_ to you, ah?”

    “Maybe you should shut up about things you know nothing about,” Gabriel retorts. He’s standing next to the rope. There’s an idea forming in his head. The rope is attached to a chandelier. He folds his arms behind his back, to disguise the movement of his fingers.

    “‘Know nothing’ is a bit of an underestimation of my range,” Tyenell observes. “I like to think I know you all quite well by now, though some, of course, I have met before.” He smiles, aggravatingly - but at Caldera, not Shine. Gabriel can see Shine cast a confused look in Caldera’s direction. “ _Quite_ the band of unlikely rebels, I should say, but your taste does not seem to have improved.”

    “And yours has not changed,” Mora says stiffly, “if you still underestimate such people.”

Tyenell raises his eyebrows, attention switching to Mora. “An unremarkable immigrant, a smuggler, Captain Blakcov - oh, excuse me, _ex-_ captain,” he corrects, with a smirk directed up at the balcony, “and a _northerner_ to boot, who I suppose considers herself accomplished. The five of them do not exactly inspire fear and dread.”

    “Six of us,” Gabriel says.

    There’s a moment where everyone, especially his own team, takes a minute to process that. Gabriel uses it to step discreetly right on top of the rope, still twisting his fingers behind his back. Being able to move things without actually touching them is incredibly helpful sometimes. The sudden flash of doubt on Tyenell’s face only makes Gabriel’s mood improve, no matter how quickly it’s wiped away.

    “I’m sorry?” Tyenell inquires, perfectly polite on the surface. A few of the troopers have raised their guns slightly, as though preparing to threaten Gabriel with them.

    “Six of us,” Gabriel repeats. The rope, at his unnoticeable urging, ties a knot around itself so that he is standing in a sturdy loop. “You missed one.”

    “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Tyenell has an indulgent smile on his face now, like he thinks Gabriel is funny. They’ll see who’s laughing in a few minutes.

    “Yeah?” Gabriel raises his eyebrows. Shine creeps a few feet closer to him, eyes flicking between the troopers and Gabriel. “I assume, given your bragging, that you’d know if any of us had been downtown yesterday.”

    “I fail to see how this is relevant,” Tyenell says.

    “If all of us are here,” Gabriel continues, ignoring him, “Which one of us killed Leti Neros?”

    Mora gasps into the ensuing weighted silence. “He’s dead?” She demands. “How?”

    Tyenell has dropped his polite smile. His entire attention is on Gabriel now, and he probably thinks his gimlet-eyed stare is impressive. “How do you know Neros is dead?”

    “I was told,” Gabriel lies. “The question stands.”

    Abruptly, Tyenell turns to one of the troopers. “Radio the ones stationed outside-”

    “No time for that,” Gabriel says, and before Tyenell can so much as turn back around all the way Gabriel yanks as hard as he can on the rope, jostling the chandelier and shaking the bolts and screws he’d undone right out of their sockets.

    The chandelier goes crashing down. The rope carries Gabriel up just as fast. The room is filled with the sounds of a crash and the tinkling of crystal and blaster fire - two shots, Gabriel sees come from the balcony, two aisles away from where he jumps over the railing. Someone swears loudly down below.

    “Go, go!” Gabriel yells at Cap, who has taken a couple steps towards him, looking unnerved. They bolt towards the nearest door. In the hallway, it takes only a few seconds for Umayaa to join them, carrying her sniper rifle. None of them bother speaking. Gabriel vaults over the railing to get onto the stairs quicker, and the two of them are a millisecond behind him. At the bottom, Cap shoots the two troopers guarding the main door from the inside before Gabriel can so much as skid to a halt and raise his hand.

    “Nice work,” Gabriel says, as the theater doors slam open to let Mora, Caldera, and Shine burst into the lobby.

    “We need to get out, _now,_ ” Caldera says. “I’m going to make sure Mora is safe, you all-”

    “Go north,” Gabriel says.

    “What? No, get out of the city-”

    “There’s still something going on here,” Gabriel retorts.

    “And we’re all blown!” Caldera snaps at him.

    “I’m going with Loki,” Cap says, surprising both of them. He’s scowling darkly, eyes flicking around the wide lobby like he’s waiting for more troopers to burst in. “I don’t like what’s happening here.”

    “Did you tell him?” Umayaa asks Mora.

    “What - about you? No!” Mora’s eyes are wide. “I don’t know any of that about you - Anu-” She glances quickly at Caldera. “Caldera only said she would get good people to help. I don’t know any of you.”

    “I believe you,” Shine says. “Is this the time for this?”

    “No,” Gabriel says. “Caldera?”

    Caldera hesitates for half a second. “Alright,” she relents. “All of you, split up and meet at the north gate of the city by sunrise. This Tyenell can’t have bought everyone, but be careful.”

    Umayaa and Shine trade go one way, once they’re out the door; Cap and Gabriel go another.

    “We should have turned by now,” Cap grunts after a few minutes. “You’re going the wrong way.”

    “I need to get my stuff,” Gabriel says.

    “We don’t have time for that-”

    “Relax, it’s not still in the city. We’ll be heading into the woods regardless.” Gabriel grins, but doesn’t turn around to let Cap see it. “Keep your pants on, Captain.”

    Cap says nothing for a long while after that. Mostly he scowls, but he stands watch while Gabriel climbs a tree five miles outside the city limits in the pitch black night to rescue his bag from its hidey-hole.

    “I hope you know where you’re going,” he says, when Gabriel drops back down to the ground. “I can barely see my hand in front of my face.”

    “I’ve been out here a couple times,” Gabriel replies. “Fewer Imperials than the city, apparently.”

    That makes Cap go quiet, too. He speaks up again more readily this time. “You think that’s what this is?”

    “Who else could they be?”

    “Shit,” Cap says, and kicks a tree. Gabriel hears it more than sees it, though no doubt he can see more than Cap at the moment. “We were supposed to be done with this after they tried to destroy all of us!”

    “Guess they’re back to get their asses kicked for a second time,” Gabriel throws out. “Come on - sunrise is in a couple hours and we’re going the long way ‘round through the forest. You’d better stay close.”

    Cap snorts, but comes a little closer. “I’m not holding your hand. That’s childish.”

    “You brought it up, not me.”

    They linger inside the treeline outside the gate, watching for any other members of their team. The gate isn’t a gate so much as it is a decorative arch; it has gatelike features, possibly, but it hasn’t been closed in over a century, so Gabriel’s heard. The city doesn’t even have a wall around it; there are plenty of other ways to get in.

    “Umayaa’s up top,” Cap murmurs after half an hour or so. Gabriel shifts a tiny bit, to look around an inconvenient tree trunk, and sees a vague shape behind a window in a ground-level house that could be a woman crouched over a rifle.

    “You sure?” He whispers back. Cap nods shortly, and Gabriel leaves it at that. He has a feeling Cap and Umayaa know each other better than he knows them.

    As sunrise pokes its fingers over the horizon and hesitantly outlines the leaves in gold, three figures detach themselves from a shadowy spot near the gate and hurtle into the woods. Gabriel goes to meet them, and the crunching undergrowth behind him tells him that Cap follows.

    _“ There_ you are,” Shine says, a little too loud, when she sees them. The relief on her face is more gratifying than Gabriel expects, or maybe just unexpected, period.

    “Let’s go,” Caldera says brusquely. She looks wound tight and grim. “We don’t have any time to waste.”

    They move north, further into the wilderness. There’s two comms between them, Gabriel’s and Caldera’s, so she takes Shine with her and sends the rest of them off in a separate group, so they can cover more ground and still stay in contact. They don’t know what they’re walking into, much less precisely where it is. Better to try and cover more ground.

    _“Are we sure we haven’t passed it?”_ Shine asks through the comm while they’re all trudging along under the midday sun. Both Cap and Umayaa are stubbornly still going, though Gabriel’s ready to call a break for them any minute. They’re not him, after all.

    “We thought Neros was at most a hundred kilometers out,” Gabriel replies. “Let’s hit that limit before we start doubting ourselves.”

    _“I’m going to collapse before I walk a hundred kilometers in one day.”_

“Sit down, then.” Gabriel stops walking himself, glancing around at the forest around him. “None of us are gonna be any use if we don’t take a break.”

    Cap scoffs; Umayaa, however, sits down right where she is and takes her rifle off her back, where she’s been carrying it all day.

    _“How did you know he was dead?”_ Shine asks, before Gabriel can turn off the comm. Gabriel can feel Cap’s attention suddenly zero in on him. _“Neros, I mean. There_ are _only five of us.”_

Gabriel glances up briefly. Cap is pretending not to listen, but Umayaa meets his gaze evenly.

    “I killed him,” Gabriel says. “I needed something to surprise Tyenell with so I could stall.”

    _“I think I have a few more questions,”_ Shine says.

    “Yeah, join the club. What I wanna know is if the chandelier hit him hard, and if it was on the head.” Gabriel flips the ‘off’ switch and shoves the comm back into the inside pocket of his jacket.

    “I shot Tyenell,” Umayaa says. “Even if your chandelier trick missed him, I didn’t.”

    “Good to know,” Gabriel says, and means it.

    “How’d you know it was Neros?” Cap asks.

    Gabriel shrugs. “There aren’t _that_ many disgraced Senators on this planet, especially not ones with Imperial ties. I looked him up.”

    Cap shakes his head, but he looks almost impressed. He sits down next to Umayaa, but the tension in his shoulders doesn’t ease away.

    “So why ‘Cap’?” Gabriel asks. Cap startles a little. “Short for captain, right? Not very imaginative.”

    “It doesn’t need to be,” Cap says shortly. “And it’s far less recognizable than ‘Loki’. Do _you_ have some kind of special meaning behind it?”

    Gabriel sits down, too, and leans against a big mossy boulder. “Just a name I used to go by.”

    “That’s dangerous,” Umayaa notes.

    “Nobody on Alderaan has any reason to recognize it unless they’ve had it explained to them,” Gabriel says, “and nobody but me knows the story behind it, so.” He flashes a quick grin. If somehow, someone in this universe knows the story of Loki, they’ll hardly be quick to connect it to him. “What about you?”

    “Why do you ask?” There’s something like wariness in Umayaa’s eyes.

    “We all got at least some of our shit aired out,” Gabriel says. “I’d rather do that myself than have somebody do it for me, when it comes down to it, and I don’t know if we’ll run into any other smug bastards who know more than they should.”

    Umayaa appears to consider that. “Tell me something first,” she says. “What’s the rest of the name you used?”

    Gabriel grins crookedly, and summons up every trace of a Norse accent his voice can remember.[ _"Loki Laufeyjarson_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHS6xJpH0Qw) _._ That was what I called myself. I had a whole slew of nicknames, but everyone did then.”

    Umayaa gives him the tiniest of nods. “Mine is a story,” she says. “It’s a constellation you can see in the north.” That makes her the northerner, then, and Shine the smuggler, according to Tyenell’s accusations. “Umayaa the bear. Sometimes she’s a demigod who could change her shape, but usually she’s just a bear. There was a hunter who knew his family would not do well during the winter, and so he took his two children with him on a hunting trip. He told them to go their own way, supposedly to cover more ground and find more prey, but really so he could leave them in the woods to die. That way, he would have enough food for himself. Umayaa saw him speak to them, and saw him walk for home, and she was so furious that she confronted him. But the hunter killed her, though she injured him too. As a reward, the gods put her shape in the sky.”

    It’s kind of a dark story, for a sunny and green forest clearing. Umayaa’s a good storyteller, though it’s less long-windedness and more the feeling she puts into it; Gabriel can practically smell snow, though they’re nowhere near far north enough and the whole forest is full of new, growing things.

    “What happened to the kids?” Cap asks. Umayaa shrugs.

    “It’s an old story,” she says. “Maybe that part was forgotten.”

    They start walking again after a little while.

    The comm crackles near sunset, or close enough to it that the sunlight is coming through the leaves at a heavy slant, backlighting half the canopy. It’s Shine, again, when Gabriel answers.

    _“I feel like we’re just wasting time,”_ she says. _“We might take weeks to find it like this. Can’t you do your thing and scout ahead?”_

“My ‘thing’?” Gabriel asks, raising his eyebrows.

    _“Yeah, the changeling thing.”_

Gabriel can _feel_ the attention of the other two sharpen behind him. There’s a scuffle of static on the comm, and then Caldera’s voice comes through. _“You never mentioned this before, Loki.”_

“Wasn’t relevant,” Gabriel says. “For you to know, anyway.” Half the reason the Alderaanian rebellion straggled along for so long was because nobody knew much of anything about any of their fellows and therefore could not have any of that information extracted, by whatever means, from them.

    _“Can you scout ahead?”_

Gabriel considers it. He’s done a lot of shapeshifting recently, but a little more will hardly hurt him. “Sure.” He clicks off the comm, tosses it into his bag, and then takes his bag off his shoulder and drops it on the ground. Clothes are one thing, but the bag is much larger to a bird or a dog.

    “What are you going to do?” Cap asks warily.

    “What I can,” Gabriel says. “You keep going; I’ll meet up with you.” He considers the forest, then takes a running leap onto a fallen log which lies at a steep angle and off it as soon as his feet touch it. He beats his wings, circling around and up past the canopy, catching a last glimpse of Cap and Umayaa before his whole vision is the sky, the sun, and a carpet of green.

    With a patch of brown, in the distance.

    That’s not right. There’s nothing but forest in this forest, and it’s spring. Everything should be green. Gabriel soars upwards, and towards the brown.

    The forest gets hilly, and starts to crawl up the mountain only ten miles or so from where the three of them were. Some rocky bits jut up, providing cover of sorts to a small dip that can barely be called a valley, but is nonetheless remarkably out of sight, for all that it is in open land and not a proper mountain range.

    The advantages of geography are probably why the Empire picked it for their secret base.

    Gabriel settles onto a tree branch, wishing he had teeth to grit, or a face that allowed for grimacing. Down below, the tiny valley buzzes with activity around the large, low building that definitely isn’t supposed to be there. The ground is blasted dirt, and a pile of gnarled roots and branches at the edge of the artificial clearing tell where the trees went, at least. White-armored figures patrol the treeline and guard the doors, and a landing pad on the roof is bordered by several turrets.

    “Shit,” Gabriel says. He wishes he hadn’t left the comm behind. He needs to call Bail. He drops down onto the ground, landing on both of his usual feet. There’s nobody nearby, but Gabriel still glances around before summoning the comm into his hand.

    It takes a frustrating few minutes for the secure channel to connect; Bail takes privacy seriously, and Gabriel would regret it if it did anything wrong other than prolong the irritating ringing noise comms made.

    Bail answers curtly. _“Adona.”_ Gabriel hasn’t heard his fake, rebellion-specific name since years ago when he’d first met Kao, but he doesn’t have time to be startled by it now.

    “It’s me,” Gabriel says, hoping his voice isn’t too ruined by the long-distance connection. “There’s some _real bullshit_ going on out here in the ass-end of nowhere.”

    _“Ga-”_ Bail cuts himself off quickly. _“Loki. Has something gone wrong? I heard you were supposed to be back by now - Emi’s-”_

“Not the time,” Gabriel interrupts. It’s a secure channel, but after Tyenell, he’s not in the mood for throwing around Emi’s name while in the middle of rebel business. “Did _you_ know someone was building an Imperial base on this planet?”

    Bail is quiet for a long, long time.

    _“Tell me exactly what you see,”_ he says.

    Gabriel counts as many troopers as he can see (too many, and more inside, though he can’t include those specifically without giving himself away), gives a rough estimate of the size of the building (too large), counts anti-aircraft turrets and tries to remember their rough coordinates.

    He drops the comm back into his bag when he’s done (though the bag, with Umayaa and Cap, is still a good few miles away). Reaching out further tells him that Caldera and Shine are on the other side of the valley, climbing up the opposite incline. The tree line, and the line of patrol, is only a mile or two away from the closest of them.

    They need to rendezvous, _fast._

Cap goes for his blaster when Gabriel drops out of the sky, barely stopping short of drawing it. Umayaa’s grip tightens, slightly less noticeably, on the strap of her rifle.

    “Call Caldera,” Gabriel says. “This is _way_ bigger than we thought.”

    Cap goes quiet and cold, when they get high up enough to get a good look. Umayaa grips the binoculars tight, knuckles paling, and stays watching for a long time.

    They set up a watch, and stay clustered high on what could be called a mountain if not for the far better examples of the word looming not ten miles away. There’s a cavelike bit that doesn’t go very far back, but allows enough room for two to sleep and a third to sit and keep watch.

    The comm crackles at midnight, while Gabriel’s practically glued to the binoculars, looking around in unpredictable sweeps and trying to think of anything he can do without giving himself away too much. He volunteered for the first go; it’s only been an hour or so since he called Bail, and sometimes he switches to watching the sky for x-wings.

    _“I can’t sleep,”_ Shine says.

    “Sleeping on watch is a bad idea.” Gabriel follows one trooper, walking slowly along the tree line, with the binoculars. How many guards could Gabriel Leyjar, codename Loki, reasonably take out with a small blaster and a talent for Force usage?

    _“I’m not on watch,”_ Shine says. _“I wanted to ask about changelings. You said they were something else. What do you think they are?”_

“Nothing like me.” He keeps his voice low. If he could find out where their munitions are, he could rig an explosion and say it had enough fuel to take out at least ninety percent of the base. “It’s an old folk tale.”

    _“Tell me about it.”_

Gabriel readjusts his grip on the comm; he has to use one hand for it, and one hand for the binoculars, but it’s not so hard. “It’s a fairy story, really,” he says. “Fairies used to be big. I don’t know if there are any on Alderaan. They’re like spirits, I guess, forces of power that live out in the wilderness and the hills. Capricious, and unpredictable. Changelings were fairy children left in exchange for stolen human babies. Don’t leave your cradle too close to the window, or your child unattended for too long, or you’ll find that they start to act a little...off. Strange, like they don’t understand the world quite like one would think a human child should.”

    _“That’s a little dark,”_ Shine says, after a length of silence unspooled itself.

    “Not as much as some stories I’ve heard,” Gabriel says. Hell, he’s _been_ darker stories than a simple stolen child. “Some of ‘em end with the valiant parent winning their kid back. I don’t know if many others go past the discovery of the swap.”

    _“No other options?”_

“The rest of those stories are true,” Gabriel says, “and so, of course, subject to the infinite variety of choices a human could make in response.” Not that all so-called changeling children had actually _been_ changelings. Autism alone was enough to make a child act just oddly enough that a ‘discovery’ might be made, even though there was a perfectly good reason for the kid to misunderstand various human social conventions and such.

    Shine only snorts. It comes across as a sizzle of static. _“I didn’t take you for a superstitious person.”_

“You don’t have to believe in something to know how not to make it angry,” Gabriel says, “just in case.”

    _“And they steal children because they’re angry?”_

“I don’t think fairies ever have such clear-cut motives.” Gabriel readjusts his grip on the binoculars, and recounts the guards to see if the number of troopers has changed. The base might be working with limited numbers.

    “Always children,” murmurs a voice. Gabriel looks down, lowering the binoculars, and sees Umayaa still awake. She’s looking at the sky, though given the limited space there’s not much else to look at besides rock and Gabriel’s ass.

    “Go to sleep, Shine,” Gabriel says into the comm, and clicks it off. He has to angle his elbow to avoid hitting Umayaa in the face when he tucks it away.

    “Do you think there’s a reason it’s always children in the old stories?” Umayaa asks.

    “Lack of responsibility and therefore a larger possibility of going running off into the blue without worrying about it?” Gabriel suggests. “Or at least a possibility that requires less of a suspension of disbelief on the part of the listener.”

    “A very technical answer to a more philosophical question.” Umayaa crosses her arms over her chest, still looking up at the sky.

    Gabriel glances back through the binoculars, and then up at the sky. There’s no moon to judge the passage of time by, only the shade of the space in between the stars. “It’s the middle of the night. I’ll allow some philosophy. Any in particular you wanted to dish out?”

    “Only thoughts,” Umayaa says. “You would think children being stolen and left for dead would be less prominent in stories that are supposed to be an escape.”

    Gabriel puts the binoculars down, letting his hand dangle between his knees, which are pulled up nearly to his chest.

    “Or an explanation,” he suggests. “Folk stories are just myths where the magic and gods have been forgotten, or turned into fairies and kings and witches. People like to be able to say how the world works, and why things happen, and science can get a little too complicated for those purposes.”

    “Never to make things better?” Umayaa’s voice is quiet, but assured.

    A grin twitches at Gabriel’s mouth. “Sounds like you’ve got something you’re getting at.”

    “Nothing I should say.”

    “I’ll pretend I’m not listening.” As an extra measure, Gabriel pointedly raises the binoculars again, going back to guard duty. As he stares at the flat dirt of the encampment, Umayaa says, very quietly,

    “The Empire killed my son.”

    Despite himself, Gabriel twitches. He glances back down at her without moving his head, but she’s still staring fixedly at the stars.

“He wanted to be a soldier,” Umayaa elaborates, when Gabriel says nothing. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that, yet. I only started asking questions when he didn’t even make it past boot camp.”

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel says quietly. He forces himself to loosen his grip on the binoculars. Umayaa nods briskly, and adds no other details to her story.

    After a minute, Gabriel says, “Y’know - I have a daughter.”

    “So I heard,” Umayaa allows, pulling a faint grin from Gabriel. “Should you be talking about her?”

    “Why not? You’re not going to track me down with whatever I tell you.” Gabriel glances in a lazy sweep around the clearing below. “I wasn’t planning on giving you a name, age, and current address.”

    The faintest twitch of the corner of Umayaa’s mouth feels like a victory. “What were you going to say, then?”

    “Maybe I was just trying to be relatable.” A flicker of movement through the trees far below catches Gabriel’s attention, and he trains the binoculars on it. “She’d be all over this, if I let her.”

    “...You came at parenting from the other side of the political spectrum, then.”

    Gabriel snorts. “Yeah. You could say that.”

    “Really, though. We don’t know what’ll happen to us, or what we might be asked if we get captured-”

    “I trust you,” Gabriel says. “You wanna know her name?” The movement beyond the trees steps into the clearing, resolving itself into a clustered group of people. “Something’s happening.”

    The abrupt shift to sobriety in his tone catches Umayaa’s attention enough to make her sit up. On her other side, Cap (faking sleep, or woken by their conversation) shifts, turning around to face them instead of blank rock.

    “What is it?” Umayaa questions.

    “Bunch’a people. Three in armor. Looks like it could be prisoner transport or something.” The binoculars fritz a little and he has to take a moment to put them down and smack them on the side a couple times.

    “Prisoner?” Umayaa’s tone sharpens.

    “It didn’t look like Shine or Caldera.” Gabriel answers the unasked question. “Too small and pale, and no montrals. I didn’t get a good look, though.” He flashes a grin - the well-practiced kind he uses when he has to fake it more than feel it - and says, “What was I saying before this? Name, right?”

    “Is this the time?” Umayaa sounds exasperated.

    “Yeah, yeah.” Gabriel puts the binoculars back up to his eyes. There’s a brief bit of blurriness before they’ll focus properly on the faces (or helmets, rather) of the group down below, who are speedily heading towards what looks like the main door of the compound. “If you were wondering, it’s-” The face of the prisoner comes into focus, and Gabriel chokes on the next word. “ _Emi?!”_

Umayaa has to duck to avoid the binoculars he flings to the side, and when she grabs his arm to stop him from leaping to his feet all that happens is he drags her to a kneeling position. Cap sits up fast.

    _“Let go!”_ Gabriel snaps at Umayaa. He doesn’t think to simply break her grip. His thoughts are far below, at the doors he is staring at in horror as they close behind the group of troopers and one human prisoner who _shouldn’t have been there._

    “Don’t be stupid!” Umayaa hisses. “You can’t do anything on your own-”

    “I’m not asking for your opinion!”

    “You can’t-”

    “How _dare_ you, after what you just told me!” Gabriel rounds on her, hands clenched into fists. “Your _namesake_ is a protector of children, for God’s sake, don’t stand there and tell me I can’t - _let go!”_    

    Umayaa tightens her grip, and Cap reaches for Gabriel doesn’t know what, and with a cry Gabriel wrenches his arm away and throws himself down the mountain.

    Instinctively, it’s the bird’s shape he takes - the one from Scarif, the most recent time he’d really truly fought the Empire. On Scarif, though, he hadn’t been nearly as frightened.

    The patrol guards barely have time to reach for their comms before Gabriel plows into one of the turrets on the roof. He bats away the sparks and the smoke and the debris with enormous wings, talons digging into the roof as he wrenches himself to a halt.

    The door on the roof bursts open and troopers stream out, but he’s already swinging around into a turn, arrowing towards the door, shrinking as he goes. Half the troopers shoot each other aiming for him and Gabriel swoops around the bend in the stairwell (bending the railing out of place) and hits the landing on two human feet.

    He sprints deeper into the compound.

    It takes seconds to run into someone new. Gabriel moves inhumanly fast and pins the man against the wall, scattering the things he carries. The wall cracks and bends, and the man makes a sharp stifled noise of pain. Gabriel doesn’t even look at whatever the objects he dropped are. He pins the man in place with his gaze.

    “Where’s the prisoner?” He demands. When the man says nothing, petrified under Gabriel’s gaze and grip around his face, Gabriel shakes him. “You just brought in a prisoner, _where is she?”_

“I don’t know,” the man chokes out.

    “Guess!”

    Mutely, he tries to shake his head. Breathing harshly, Gabriel considers him for a moment.

    “I wonder,” he says, low and threatening, “how difficult it would be to take out one of your eyes.” Some muscles, the shape of the skull, and an eyelid or two is all that holds it in place. He wouldn’t even have to touch the eyeball itself.

    Said eyes widen in fear. “I don’t know!” The man blubbers, trying to wrench himself out of Gabriel’s grip. “Downstairs! In the basement probably!”

    Gabriel casts him forcefully aside and is moving downwards before the man hits the wall.

    The stairs end abruptly only a little ways down. Gabriel moves fast to avoid hitting the floor and hits the guy in the desk inexplicably near it instead. Three others leap to their feet while the one half crushed by the desk chokes on their own blood. Gabriel sweeps out an arm and they all go flying.

    In the resulting tumbled mess of furniture and people, Gabriel brings out his blaster and points it at the least injured one. He’s lying under half a wrecked control panel of some sort, with split wires that are sparking and smoking.

    “Where did you put your prisoner?” He asks. He’s not calmer; he’s still furious, oh yes, but now he’s _seething_ with it. It’s boiled up inside until it turns to steam and makes everything fog over, so now he concentrates to look through it.

    “Let me guess,” the kid says raggedly, and it is a kid, twenty barely and struggling to keep breathing. “You kill me if I don’t answer.”

    “Maybe I’ll just wait until your ribs finish breaking under that weight and see what you think then,” Gabriel says, and pointedly clicks the safety off. The kid’s already pale, but he goes paler. He mutely shakes his head.

    “What else is in this basement?” Prisoners go down to the basement. Emi’s in the basement. Gabriel’s as far down as he can go.

    “I don’t know.”

    “No prisoners?” No answer. Gabriel’s hand twitches, and a blaster bolt scars the wall next to the kid’s head. He flinches. _“None?”_

“You’re going to kill me anyway,” the kid wheezes, still stuck on that point.

    “It’s gonna be a lot quicker if I do it than if you let your injuries.” Gabriel cocks his head. “Would you prefer living? ‘Cause you can live. You’ll live every single day of your life with those broken ribs and that near-punctured lung I can hear and you will never, ever die. Does that sound better?”

    Maybe it’s his tone of voice - he’s slipped into his Trickster lilt - that makes it sound threatening enough that the kid falters. The blood dripping from a cut on his forehead looks stark red against his skin.

    “In there,” the kid whispers, “on the other end. All the way.”

    Gabriel moves on.

    In all likelihood the kid will die anyway - everyone else in that room has by the time they finish speaking, crushed or thrown just a little too hard.

    But. He is the same age as Emi.

    On the far side of the basement of the compound, there is one door and three men. One of them is discussing methods of interrogation. Gabriel crashes into them with such a force of fury that all three are dead before they hit the floor. Or the wall.

    He knows what methods of interrogation the Empire uses and he swears-

    Emi is inside. Emi is inside and the chair has cuffs around her wrists and she is pale but she is there. She is not hurt. She makes a sobbing noise when Gabriel collides gently with her and digs her fingers into his arms when he hugs her tight and he _breathes,_ just breathes out in one long go.

    Emi is here.

    Emi inhales and opens her mouth, and Gabriel braces himself, because there are a lot of questions she could be asking - but she just cries. The stress and fear and relief is coming off her in waves, so Gabriel settles for breaking the cuffs on the chair and bringing her gently to her feet. She does not let go of him.

    “Hey,” he says softly, letting her bury her face in the join of his neck and shoulder, “I’m gonna do something a little strange - is that okay?”

    Emi nods. Gabriel turns, bringing them outside and far away from the encampment and rebel hidey-holes both. He tries to make it easy on her - humans never react well to angel transport - but Emi still makes an involuntary noise and jerks a little in his hold.

    They stand there for a little while; just stand there. Emi clutches him tight, breathing hard, and Gabriel strokes a hand through her hair and down her back soothingly and realizes he dropped his blaster and didn’t pick it up.

    It doesn’t matter. Blasters can be replaced.

    He wants to ask what she’s doing here, what happened, but questions can wait. And, Gabriel realizes bitterly, it’s his own damn fault. He went over the five-day deadline he’d imposed, and she must have come looking for him. Straight into a situation even he’d underestimated.

    There’s a shudder in the sky overhead that Gabriel has come to associate with ships breaking out of hyperspace. He’s gotten used to it, but so far out in the wilderness, it’s noticeable. He raises his head and looks up; if he tries hard, he can see the approaching x-wings. Gabriel understands in an instant. Bail’s called in the cavalry.

    “Hey,” he says again, softly, before the scream of x-wings speeding through the air can become audible and far before they get close enough to start blowing stuff up. “Let’s get out of here.” He desperately wants to destroy the station himself, but Emi is more important. He left a trail of destruction behind him; that’s enough.

    Emi breathes deep, wipes her face on her sleeve, and says, “Okay,” in a clear voice. “Okay, let’s go.” One hand stays tight on his arm.

    Gabriel takes them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THAT ENTIRE BIT WITH EMI TOOK ME FOREVER. I had to /really/ get into Gabriel's furious mindset and...you know, it's a lot. Gabriel's a lot.
> 
> And, I'll admit, I saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time while halfway through this chapter, and I wrote an entire chandelier crash in just because of that. So if you were to happen to listen to the overture while that happens, it would be a lot cooler, I'm just saying. That's totally not what I did while I was writing it (only because I had to keep backtracking to the beginning of the track). 
> 
> I have art of all four of Gabriel's rebel friends, but it's real late here as I post this, so I'll have to track it down in the morning and see if I can add it in. I tried to give Gabriel more of a bond with Bail and Breha, but he's a stubborn dude when it comes to sharing! We'll see where it goes.
> 
> The song Gabriel sings with Meilo is Seven Bridges Road, sung by Richard Speight as well as other SPN actors at a convention; the song Meilo sings to him is something like a Japanese Soran Bushi, which is easily available on Youtube in many versions. I like the one by Umekichi best, so that's the one I picture.
> 
> In the link on Loki's full name, if you start at about 10:00, there is a proper pronunciation of the full name. Jackson Crawford's videos are very informative for beginners in Norse mythology, if you're curious about it!
> 
> Comment, please!

**Author's Note:**

> comment, please!


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